


The Hunter and the Thief

by Zooheaded



Series: The Hunter and the Thief [1]
Category: Diablo (Video Game), Diablo III
Genre: ADHD Character, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Demisexual Chatacter, Drama, F/M, Gen, Humor, M/M, Pansexual Character, Pre-Slash, Romance, Sexual Content, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-01-05 21:53:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 29,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zooheaded/pseuds/Zooheaded
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All the in-between moments that occur during the main Diablo III story, dealing mostly with the male Demon Hunter and Lyndon the scoundrel. Snapshots of a developing friendship.</p><p>More characters may be added in the future and ratings and warnings may change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Tristram

**Author's Note:**

> This is where I will collect all the one-shots that I don't think need multiple chapters, focusing on Lyndon the scoundrel and the male Demon Hunter named Jack. These stories are meant to be little in-between moments that occur at some point over the four acts of the main Diablo III plot. They are all loosely connected and are meant to fill in the cracks of the overarching story. I considered them to be a prequel for my other story 'Rest Stop,' but while that story is M/M in content, these stories won't necessarily be. You could call these pre-slash if anything. 
> 
> I will write these and post them as they come to me, so they may not necessarily be in order, but I will do my best to re-order them as more are posted. And to any readers who have enjoyed my other story and are irritated by how long I'm taking to update, this is a little Christmas gift to you.
> 
> Thanks! Please enjoy!

 

 

_"Any master of battle should always_

_take stock of his friends as well as his enemies._

_Knowing both can, in time, be profitable.”_

 

 

The light of morning dawned cool and misty and it wasn't long after that the residents of New Tristram rose and began their daily rounds of patrol and keeping each other fed, alive and in good spirits. Jack was confident that now that the Skeleton King was put back in the ground, and the evil creatures in his manor and dungeons dispelled, the town's dire situation would greatly improve. Since the Khazra infested fields had been mostly cleared of the beasts and wayward demons, they would probably be able to go back to farming soon. Captain Rumford would have likely welcomed the return to normalcy.

Had he survived.

He had been killed when Maghda and her cultists invaded New Tristram to get to Leah and Deckard Cain. Jack had found his cold corpse on the bridge outside the main gates. At least, it appeared that the poor man had not suffered long. Jack felt guilty that he had not been here to save him and the other militiamen that had been killed.

Even still, the Demon Hunter was pleased, that in spite of his glaring failure to Deckard Cain and Captain Rumford, he had done New Tristram a service and made the lives of its residents better. After they paid their respects to the old Horadrim, he and his new collection of companions would continue on to find what lay in wait for them in Caldeum.

Jack watched from his hilltop perch overlooking the town. Haedrig was awake already and packing up his caravan of forge equipment, being assisted by the Templar Kormac who had few possessions. Tyrael soon emerged from Deckard Cain's home and joined them. Leah had offered the Demon Hunter space to rest in her Uncle's house as well, since he did not need it anymore, but Jack had been too guilty over the old man's wrongful death to take her up on the offer.

The Hunter had spent the night outside, preferring to awaken cold and stiff, as he knew Deckard Cain had been in death. It seemed wrong that he should be warm and safe in the man's own house when the legendary Horadrim would never feel such comforts again. Perhaps he would in the afterlife, but at the very least, Jack had endured a cold night out as penance for being too slow.

He would _kill_ that witch.

He waited until he saw Leah emerge from the Slaughtered Calf Inn, bearing the possessions she had chosen to take with her, before he left his spot and reentered the town. He supposed he ought to at least look in and see if Lyndon had stayed, though Jack honestly didn't expect their resident troublemaker to still be around. He assumed Lyndon had run off sometime in the night. Though, Jack had been awake for hours now and had yet to see anyone leave or enter the town. Perhaps the scoundrel was still here? Somehow he didn't think Lyndon would be an early riser.

Nodding a 'good morning' at his new friends and doing his best to return Leah's strained smile, he continued past them into the Inn. He reached the thief's room upstairs and knocked firmly.

"Lyndon. Its time to leave." Jack said against the door. There was silence.

"Lyndon?" He knocked again and waited for several long minutes. He listened carefully but couldn't hear any signs of life from inside.

Gone then. No matter. Jack turned to leave, they needed to stop at Cain's grave before they caught the caravan to the sea.

Then there was a soft, whiny mumble from the other side of the door. "Five more minutes."

He was here then. All well and good, but he was still in _bed_.

"NOW Lyndon. We've a caravan and a boat to catch." The Demon Hunter growled, banging on the door in irritation. "If you want to keep earning gold then get out here, we are leaving _now_!"

"Alright, alright!" The scoundrel shouted from the other side of the door, then there was some shuffling noises and a few thumps. Jack felt himself bristling with impatience.

"Hurry up!" He snapped, temper getting the better of him. The _nerve_ of him, sleeping in when he had _specifically_ told him to be ready at dawn!

“Alright!” Lyndon stumbled out of the room, nearly crashing into him. He reeked of sex and alcohol. His eyes were red and his overall appearance, usually immaculately groomed, was greatly disheveled. He was trying with moderate success to finish putting on his pants and shirt whilst hauling his bag.

"Alright, just... stop _shouting_ , I'm either still _drunk_ or the black dog hasn't bitten me yet." Lyndon said miserably, getting his clothes in order and closing the door quickly. Jack just barely glimpsed two girls sprawled naked on the bed, fast asleep with multiple empty alcohol bottles strewn about the room.

That Lyndon could indulge himself to such a degree in a small, lonely, besieged town like New Tristram, Jack found almost beyond belief.

Jack sighed, feeling deeply put upon. “Come on then.” He said softly.

Lyndon grasped his shoulder suddenly to get his balance, causing every muscle in Jack's body to tighten reflexively, flooding him with adrenaline. Angry _again_ at the liberties the man took with him and his lack of caring for the personal space of others, Jack reigned in the urge to snap at him. He forced himself to calm and allowed the contact, all the better if it got them outside faster.

Lyndon was wobbly and disoriented from lack of sleep and too much alcohol, but he was more or less ready to go. They went downstairs (with some difficulty) and Lyndon tossed a bag of money at Bron behind the bar who waved cheerfully at them. Then finally, _finally_ they were outside.

The thief squinted and winced, covering his eyes with his free hand. "Gods, wretched _sun_." He muttered, blinking in the golden light of morning.

Jack was beginning to have second thoughts. Bringing the scoundrel along may not have been the best idea. Perhaps he should have listened to Kormac. He knew that Lyndon was not an _evil_ man, but he was irresponsible and, so far, unreliable. His lackadaisical attitude about the very real danger they would likely be in could get them all _killed._

And yet...

The Demon Hunter had seen him carefully packing and mailing away gold he had earned. He had another reason for wanting it aside from funding his petty vices, Jack was just not sure what that reason was yet. Lyndon needed gold and Jack needed a skilled arbalist at his side for backup, and Lyndon had proven himself to be, if _nothing_ else, a talented and resourceful fighter with more than one trick up his sleeve.

Jack wanted to give him a chance.

Lyndon was currently trying to walk without looking and holding onto Jack's arm like some wayward child. If Lyndon didn't die out in the wilderness, then surely Jack would lose his temper and kill him first.

"Must you hang on me?" Jack asked irritably.

"I don't want to look but I also don't want to trip." Lyndon said sullenly.

Jack breathed hard through his nose, but marched on to catch up with the rest of the group that was making their way up the hill overlooking the town, dragging the thief behind him. Haedrig was saying his last goodbyes to his wife and would join them at the caravan after.

“Tell me you're not actually _bringing_ that scoundrel? I had assumed we would be _parting ways_." Kormac said sourly. Jack merely shrugged at him by way of explanation. He really didn't _have_ a good explanation. He did not miss Tyrael's amused smile. Leah seemed rather indifferent. Jack could understand, she was still upset about her uncle's death.

"No, it appears we are to remain close friends old Kormac.” Lyndon said with false cheer. “Please, _kindly_ lower the 'pack beast in heat' _bellow_ you refer to as your voice." He complained. "I have a terrible headache coming on."

"It serves you _right_ you heathen, a headache is the very least of the just punishment you deserve for all the sinning you do!" Kormac exclaimed.

"Steaming _Hells_ , you're loud." Lyndon groaned, massaging his eyes. "I was almost killed yesterday by a fat, _nasty_ demon who called himself 'The Butcher' in a room that was more like a roasting oven than a dungeon. I deserved a little _celebration_."

"How dare you even _suggest_ -" Kormac growled.

"Enough, show some respect." Jack snapped as they reached where Cain's ashes were stored, letting Leah have a last goodbye. They'd only known the thief for the better part of two days and already there had been more arguments between him and the Templar than Jack could count. He was already beyond tired of their frequent bickering.

"I'm sorry Leah." Kormac said sheepishly, hanging his head "I shouldn't have lost my temper, it was disrespectful of me."

Leah smiled sadly and waved it off, already used to their many disagreements.

"I'm sorry too.” Lyndon said quickly, then muttered, “I didn't lose _my_ temper though."

Jack quickly gave him a firm elbow to the ribs.

 _"Owww!"_ He rubbed the spot vigorously, looking at Jack as if he had just spat on him.

"Don't act like a child!" Jack hissed at him. Lyndon narrowed his dark eyes, then looked away to stare holes in the ground wearing a petulant frown.

The stone where the urn was placed had a lovely view of the town. It was fitting that the Horadrim would be buried here, where so many events in his life had begun. It was only right that his many adventures ended here.

Leah placed a handful of wildflowers in front of the urn, her eyes shining with tears. "I'll miss you uncle." She murmured, choking up all over again. Tyrael was silent, but placed a gentle hand upon her shoulder. Lyndon kept his eyes on the ground and Kormac bowed his head in quiet prayer.

Jack remained silent as well, all too familiar with the ritual of saying goodbye to loved ones. He had done it too many times in his life. This time was no different, again he had failed someone when he should have been able to protect them. He closed his eyes against the glowing burn he knew had flared within him, not wanting anyone to notice how he steeped in his rage. The weight of failure was heavy on his shoulders.

Leah's pain pierced his very soul. If he could spend the rest of his life making it up to her, it would never be enough to heal the wound. He knew this. The scars upon his own heart ached daily. They would never heal.

Lyndon spoke up suddenly, breaking the silence. Either out of guilt for his poor behavior or genuinely wanting to make Leah feel better, Jack did not know.

"Uhm, Leah...” Lyndon began, Jack braced himself for something inappropriate to come out of the thief's mouth and waited. “Don't you have a glass vial pendant? Why don't you take some of his ashes with you? Then he'll always be close to you." He suggested gently.

Jack was surprised at the thoughtfulness of the statement. Kormac did not speak, apparently stunned silent. He probably didn't think there was a single good bone in the scoundrel's body. The Templar merely gaped at him in shock.

Leah wiped her tears away with the heel of her palm. "How did you know I had that?" She asked a little suspiciously.

"Er, does it _matter_?" He grinned weakly, then awkwardly looked away. Jack narrowed his eyes at him. The scoundrel had obviously been snooping in the poor girl's things.

"I suppose not.” She said with a light laugh. “I... I didn't think of that. I think I _will_ take some of him with me. Thank you Lyndon." She said sincerely, smiling at him

He smiled cheerfully back at her as if to say. _See? I'm not so bad!_

Indeed. There was more to the scoundrel than met the eye.

 

=+=+=+=+=+=

 

Lyndon was looking a bit green at the rocking motion of the caravan which was rather worrisome. Jack had no desire for the man to be sick on him. They were sitting together in the cart furthest to the back with their possessions, while Tyrael, Kormac and Leah conversed amiably one cart ahead. Haedrig reclined quietly, smoking a pipe, but smiled every so often at something one of them said. Jack hoped the blacksmith would heal with time.

The scoundrel groaned in misery and hid his face from the sun against the hunter's shoulder, eyes closed, obviously trying to fall back asleep despite his discomfort. Jack was more than a little uncomfortable at this. He was not used to someone who was so... _physical_... and uncaring of the personal space of others. Most people would not even approach a Demon Hunter, let alone attempt to sleep on one. The unfamiliar contact set his nerves on edge, benign as it was. Nevertheless, Jack let him be. He much preferred the quiet to the man's incessant complaining.

Jack thought about what the scoundrel had said to Leah earlier. It had really lifted her spirits. He watched her smile and laugh, listening to stories from Tyreal and Kormac. He watched her hand go to her chest and he could see the chain of the pendant sparkling in the light.

"That was very thoughtful of you." Jack said quietly to the thief, after a time.

“Hm? What?” Lyndon mumbled, shifting his head.

“What you said to Leah.”

"Ah, yes, yes. I have a heart of gold and I'm almost as wonderful as the prophet, et cetera and so on. Can't we chat _later_? I might have to revisit my dinner..." Lyndon whined pitifully.

"Fine then.” Jack replied. “But I expect you to return anything you took while pawing through Leah's things or I'll hurl you from this cart." He threatened.

" _Very_ grown up of you." Lyndon said and sat up again slowly. "I didn't take anything. I wouldn't steal from someone who was grieving." Lyndon said quickly, putting his hand back over his eyes and wincing. "I was just _looking_ , cross my heart."

The hunter knew he was telling the truth. He could smell a lie a mile away. He sighed softly."Try to respect other people's privacy next time." He lectured.

He was rewarded with a soft grunt in reply.

After a few minutes, Lyndon rested his head on the demon hunter's shoulder again, closing his eyes. Jack didn't have the heart to disturb him.

Jack was quiet and thoughtful for a few minutes as the cart rolled over the packed ground. He looked out over the landscape, thinking about Caldeum and what they might face there. The Lord of Lies, hm? He would kill him like he had all the demons that had come before him. A demon Lord was still a demon. They were all the same.

Lyndon shifted suddenly and reached into the pocket of his well worn coat and pulled out a rather _familiar_ looking purse of coins.

"I didn't steal from Leah... but his however, is _yours_." Lyndon said with a wolfish grin.

"You rotten little _thief_!" Jack hissed, snatching it back, shoving the scoundrel away from him.

Lyndon laughed and laughed and laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote taken from the Diablo 1 Manual.


	2. Caravan

 

“ _I have found out that there ain't no surer way to find out whether you like people or hate them than to travel with them.”_  
― Mark Twain, Tom Sawyer Abroad

 

 

Their caravan had stopped for the night at the edge of the Aranoch desert. Tomorrow they would cross it and enter Lut Gholein. From there, they would chart a boat across the Twin Seas to Gea Kul. Then the caravan would continue on to Caldeum. At least, that was the path Kormac was able to discern from the map.

He had never traveled so far before, he only knew the land around Westmarch, the Order and New Tristram. He had been intently studying the map of the known world Leah had shown to him, trying to get a feel for where they were going. The Templar was surprised at how quickly their little band had grown. He wasn't quite sure what he had expected, but it wasn't _this_.

The Order had sent him to retrieve the lost texts stolen by Arch Bishop Lazarus, and he had found several of them already, but that was not his _only_ mission, he had to learn of the sacred prophecy as well. Jack had saved his life in the depths of the old Tristram cathedral, and together they had killed the Skeleton King. After, Jack had taken him to meet Deckard Cain, the last Horadrim. There was much he had wanted to ask the old man, things about his Order, the holy tomes, his knowledge of the Three. There was so much he could have learned from Cain, and now he'd never get the chance to ask.

He would do everything in his power to avenge him.

And now the prophecy was starting to unfold before them as they journeyed in the company of an _angel_. Truly, his order would be _proud_ of him if they knew.

He was weary from a long day on the road and couldn't think much on the subject of their angelic companion. Lying down on his bedroll, sleep was hard coming, and he tossed and turned on the cold ground. Leah was fast asleep nearby and he could hear Haedrig snoring. The other nameless travelers of their caravan were some distance away. Kormac could see the light of their fire but could not hear any voices so he could only assume they were asleep as well. He sighed in frustration. His back was a little sore from sitting in a caravan all day and he ached for a little action. He almost hoped that some band of thieves would attempt to rob their caravan tomorrow, if only to give him a chance to exercise some righteousness!

Speaking of _thieves_ , he couldn't help but eavesdrop on Jack and Lyndon's conversation at the campfire several feet away. He rolled onto his side so that he could observe them. Jack crouched very still by the fire while Lyndon reclined in a carefree manner against the fallen log at his back. Kormac still couldn't believe that the hunter had taken that _deplorable_ individual along with them. The Templar had already argued with Lyndon many times and had barely known him a few days. He could only imagine how poorly they were going to get along for the rest of their journey. He did _not_ keep company with thieves!

Taking Lyndon with them, was the first poor decision Kormac thought Jack had made since he'd met him. He just couldn't _understand_ his reasons! Actually, Jack hadn't even offered any! Despite this, he did his best to respect the man's wishes, he owed him that much.

“So you're a Demon Hunter.” Lyndon said to their brooding leader, interrupting Kormac's thoughts. “I've heard of people like you but never actually met one before. Where did you learn how to fight?” Lyndon asked casually while delicately peeling an apple with his dagger.

Kormac was annoyed by the lack of respect the scoundrel had for their unusual friend. He was obviously a man of great importance amongst his own organization and should be treated as such. It was extremely disrespectful, Kormac thought, to question him about his life. The Demon Hunter rarely spoke unless he had to, but when he did, people listened to him. The Templar sometimes envied the way he could immediately take control of an unruly situation.

“The Dreadlands.” Jack responded quietly.

“Dreadlands? Hm. Sounds _charming_.” The thief chuckled, ever amused by his own wit.

Jack was silent for a few moments, but then, surprisingly, he spoke again. “From what I was told, at one time it was. There was an eruption from Mt. Arreat that leveled the landscape two decades ago, leaving many settlements in ruins. It is a desolate, largely uninhabited place.” Jack offered hesitantly. His tone begged that no more questions be asked of him. It was obvious he did not like to speak about himself to any capacity. Kormac respected that and so did Leah and Haedrig, but this _ingrate_ didn't seem to care at all!

“Are there many Demon Hunters like you?” Lyndon continued, as though oblivious to the man's antisocial behavior. He took an obnoxiously loud bite out of his apple.

“A few. We number in the hundreds.”

“So you were taught by... _someone._ ” The thief continued, mouth full, waving his hand in emphasis as he chewed. “Taught how to kill demons like you do... Were you born there? Do people just... show up? Or do you go around handing out advertisement pamphlets describing the _beautiful_ land you'll reside in while you train?” He said with a laugh. By the Gods, Lyndon's disrespect was intolerable! Kormac was so angered that he was tempted to speak up and shout at him.

And yet... Kormac was continuously amazed at how the scoundrel seemed to be able to get their dark friend to speak of himself when no one else had been successful. As kindly as Jack spoke to Leah, she could not get him to open up much either. Why did he talk to that rotten brigand, but not to her? Or even a holy _Templar_ like himself?

“I was not born there. There is a recruitment of sorts. All of us are survivors.” Jack replied cryptically, gazing into the fire.

“Mm, then how did _you_ come to be there?” Lyndon asked him, dark eyes glittering with interest. Indeed, Kormac wondered the very same thing and listened intently, eager to know more about this strange man. This _Demon Hunter_.

Jack was quiet again for a time, then shifted, slowly getting to his feet.

“You should go to bed. It's late and we have another long day of travel ahead of us.” He said to the Scoundrel.

“Indeed. And when will _you_ sleep, then?” Lyndon inquired with a hint of amusement, tossing his apple core over his shoulder. But Jack had already moved beyond the perimeter of the fire's light and could no longer be seen.

 


	3. Moonseed

 

_“Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.”_

― Winston Churchill

 

 

“What happened to your brother, precisely?”

Jack's voice interrupted the gentle Midsummer calm of the Dalgur Oasis. Lyndon felt himself bristle defensively at the direct way he had been spoken to. It was nice that Jack had started to warm up to him a little. He was beginning to get a bit lonely because he wasn’t allowed to leave the camp at night anymore, and everyone but the bloody _blacksmith_ treated him as if he were something that merely had to be tolerated.

And ever since Eirena joined their merry fellowship, Kormac had become insufferable and treated him worse than ever. The stupid Templar didn't even use his name! He just said "You! Scoundrel!" Whenever he spoke to him. Lyndon thought it very rude of him.

Jack's new friendliness towards him was nice, but he could do _without_ all the bloody questions.

Lyndon once again contemplated leaving, stealing away while the Hunter slept. If he _ever_ slept. However, the siren call of the treasure he was getting from their little arrangement was proving to be too strong. He'd already acquired more gold in these last few weeks then he had all the past year.

No, for better or worse, he would stay, if only to repay his debt, but at the very least he could attempt to make the experience more pleasant for himself by shutting the other man up.

“Nothing you'd want to hear.” The scoundrel replied icily, hoping to end this conversation before it began.

“I asked.” The Demon Hunter pressed. No such luck then.

Lyndon felt anger flare up at Jack's persistence, he stopped and rounded on the Hunter, “And then what? I suppose you'll make it all right? You'll fix it up just like another one of your little _errands_? Some things aren't that easy.”

“Well, I can't do anything if I don't know the situation!” Jack countered angrily.

"Gods, you're so noble about it too. Spare me." Lyndon snapped. Really, sometimes the man was just _infuriating_.

That ended it, thank Akarat. Jack did not continue speaking. At least he knew when to shut his big mouth.

Lyndon was angry. He hated thinking about his past mistakes, he hated Jack for making him think about them by prying, but most of all he hated himself for what he had done to Edlin and the woman they both cared for.

Mm. Best not to think about it.

At least they were out of the sewers, _that_ was something good to reflect upon. They both stank and the grime was unpleasant. Hopefully, when they stopped to rest to avoid the worst heat of the day they would be able to get in a wash somehow. This place was called an oasis after all, there had to be a large supply of water _somewhere_ to soak in.

That disgusting, mummified head Jack had in his bag hadn't said anything since they'd first arrived. Zultan Kulle. He wondered if the dusty old Horadrim had heard their little spat. If he had, he hadn't spoken up. Lyndon rather hoped he'd never have to hear that annoying laugh again. He comforted himself with more pleasant thoughts of clean clothes, clean hair and clean _women_ , and felt his bad mood start to slip away.

He never was one to stay angry for long.

They pressed on through the foliage, fireflies blinking around them. The air became cooler when the sun went down, moisture hanging thick and quenching Lyndon's parched skin. Now that he was comfortable again, he was starting to get bored. There hadn't been any action for quite some time now, but that certainly didn't stop the Demon Hunter from looking.

“Keep up.” Jack said coldly, going full steam ahead into the depths of the Oasis.

“I'm right here you know.” Lyndon shot back quickly, but followed him as closely as he could.

Blast it all! That damned Demon Hunter _always_ ruined his good mood by being such a git. He decided a good alternative to shouting at him was teasing. That at least might rile the other man up again, an amusing pastime.

“For such a beautiful place,” he began, his voice taking on a mocking note, “There sure are a lot of ugly creatures around. But then—I guess that’s because __you’re__ here Jacky.”

“What?!” Jack growled.

Ha! Lyndon knew he _hated_ that pet name!

“I _jest_!” The scoundrel said lightly and held up his hands in mock surrender. “Well, mostly. When was the last time you bathed, exactly?”

Jack glowered at Lyndon, and the scoundrel laughed, though without feeling much humor. The Demon Hunter was always so dark and brooding, a complete _bore_ he'd say. Lyndon couldn't even tell if he ever got tired or hungry. He must. He was still _human_ wasn't he? Despite whatever that drowned temple spirit had said about him.

Jack tended to look a bit vicious and animalistic when he was fighting and extremely stern when he wasn't. He never smiled, but had, on occasion, smirked. He laughed, maybe twice since Lyndon had known him. Jack's poker face could certainly rival his own.

He was a strange man. Perhaps with too many inner demons to wrestle with.

When Lyndon had asked him once if he had any sisters or lovers, just to get to _know_ him better of course, Jack had snapped at him rather angrily and then went quiet for a long time. Lyndon had yet to figure out what had upset him so much. He assumed he'd lost someone, but couldn't be sure.

Not like he was going to just ask. _Some_ people knew better than to pry into other people's business!

Jack's sulky glare that he was aiming at Lyndon suddenly turned into a wild eyed, animal alertness.

“Lyndon,” he said, almost in a growled hush. He aimed his crossbows seemingly at the scoundrel's head.

“ _Deceivers_.” The hunter snarled and then Lyndon heard the hissing rattle that announced the cunning servants of Belial.

Jack opened fire and a torrent of arrows whistled past his head at translucent forms that resembled shimmering waves of heat. Lyndon moved away to a safer distance, firing his own bolts at the silvery shapes that had become snapping serpentine creatures that slashed at them ferociously.

"Kill the interlopers!" A larger one screeched to it's smaller minions.

Lyndon dipped his hands into the fine grained powder he used to blind things that attacked him. "I fight dirty!" He said with a smile, hurling fist fulls into the beast's eyes with practiced precision.

"Little WRETCH!" They screeched in pain and thrashed around blindly, sometimes striking each other in their fury.

The hideous snake demons started to drop one by one, Jack's shots were relentless and deadly accurate, he looked positively crazed as he fired endlessly into the mass of twisted creatures. “ _Vengeance!_ ” he screamed, baring his teeth. Lyndon felt some concern for him in moments like this, that much anger couldn't be healthy.

Lyndon fired the killing blow into another deceiver. "Ah, the looting begins." He chuckled, then looked around for the hunter who had gone out of sight.

"Damn it!" He muttered, then abandoned the corpses to follow him.

Jack was moving through the shrubbery, unleashing arrows into the last big demon, a larger servant with a powerful poison the made the grass curl and smoke. Jack moved to throw a grenade but the beast struck the Demon Hunter once in the leg, eliciting a snarl of pain. The grenade fell to the ground. Jack luckily had the presence of mind to kick it at the demon but unfortunately the direction the bomb went was where Lyndon had just emerged from the bushes.

The scoundrel scrambled out of the way avoiding the poison sting of slashing claws and howls of rage. The grenade exploded, killing the thing instantly. The corpse fell at their feet in several pieces and all was quiet again. Jack was panting, Lyndon was surprised he looked so spent. Well maybe not _too_ surprised. Jack let one crossbow fall to the ground carelessly, odd, since he normally babied those damn weapons, caring for them like it was his religion. Jack held a hand over his injured leg, hissing through his teeth.

"Are you... alright?" Lyndon asked, feeling a bit apprehensive about the other man's condition. There was blood and poisonous residue on his armor from the snake's claws, but it did not seem to be burning him.

“Yes... I'm alright.” The hunter murmured but it was without conviction, a default answer.

“Jacky?” Lyndon asked hesitantly, then he saw a large plant behind the Demon Hunter starting to twitch. Whatever kind it was didn't matter to Lyndon, all he knew was that if you so much as brushed against it, it exploded, expelling a disgusting, slimy fume of deadly pollen.

"Jack! The PLANT!” He yelled, rushing forward to do- _Akarat_ knows what- push him out of the way? He didn't really think it through, he just _moved_.

But Jack didn't even have _time_ to move, he had barely turned his head when the plant burst open, spraying him full in the face with sticky, poisonous nectar and fumes. Jack's eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed. The poison from the initial burst was strong enough to kill a man. Gods! Was he _dead_?

“Jack!” Lyndon panicked, kneeling at the demon hunter's side. He was covered in blood Lyndon couldn't tell what was his and what was the demon's. He could not find any gaping wounds beyond the cut in his leg.

"Come on Jacky, wake up! Jack _please_!" The hunter did not stir, he was completely unconscious. He only continued to breathe, shallow and steady. Not dead then... But... Lyndon looked around into the dark, suddenly feeling very vulnerable and alone. " _Damn_ it!" He hissed. His body broke out in a fearful cold sweat. A mad, selfish thought came upon him then, to rob Jack and leave him in the wilderness, just get out, end this dangerous quest before it killed him, but he squashed it down. He had enough bloody guilt to deal with. He did not want to add this man's death and consequently the damnation of an entire city and quite possibly the _world_ to his long list of horrid mistakes.

If Lyndon was being honest with himself, he'd recall that the hunter had saved his hide near a thousand times by now. Surely he could repay the favor at _least_ once. He wiped as much of the sticky stuff off the hunter's face as he could, but it had left behind a residue that was extremely tacky and stained his skin a sickly green.

With the demon hunter down for the count, Lyndon knew they were now in a significantly greater amount of danger then they had been just minutes ago. While he was being _so_ honest with himself, Lyndon would recognize that while he _was_ better than the average warrior in his abilities, (one didn't climb the ranks of the thieves guild with charm alone and nothing to show for it) he could not kill these creatures on his own. He relied on the other man's strange powers and physical prowess to protect him. And as he mentioned before, he'd have died a thousand times without the man lying on the ground in front of him.

“ _Hmmm... this is a sticky little problem. What are you going to do now?”_ The disembodied voice of Zultan Kulle emerged from Jack's bag and echoed around Lyndon like the distant wail of a night bird, startling him. He looked around wildly, thinking he'd see the wizard's golden apparition shimmering before him. He blinked hard, trying to think of something cutting to say.

“ _Cat got your tongue? No? Then maybe a snake will soon.”_ The voice taunted.

“Shut up!” Lyndon snapped childishly, "O-Or you'll be looking for your _tongue_ next in some forgotten pit!" He added.

“ _How unlike you Lyndon, you usually know just what to say. Rinse the ichor off in water. He is not like the_ rest _of you, he will be fine."_

"Why the Hell do you care to help us?" Lyndon snapped.

 _"I do want to get my body back you know. Him living through this is in my best interest. Haha...haha...ha..ha...”_ The voice faded away on a dry cackle, then all was silent again except for the ambiance of the wilderness.

“Damned wizard.” Fear was making his hands shake. He fumbled for his skin of water and uncorked the top. He upended it over the demon hunter's face, wiping at the green slime with his fingers as he did so.

The reaction was immediate. The hunter jerked and bolted upright, grabbing Lyndon's throat in a steely grip. The scoundrel choked and coughed in surprise, clutching at the hand around his neck. Jack squinted at him through the slime in his eyes, then his eyes widened in recognition and he pulled his hand away as if burned. He squeezed his eyes shut with a sound of pain and brought a hand to them, wiping at them furiously.

"Lyndon, I'm _sorry_. Are you alright?" He ground out, rubbing at his eyes.

"Yes. Fine." He gasped, massaging his throat. "I suppose... I should have thought that _through_." He said, sucking mouthfuls of air.

"Perhaps." Jack replied, then grit his teeth. "Blasted plant, it _burns_."

"Here then." Lyndon stood up, pulling the hunter up with him carefully by the elbow, and lead him by the shoulders, mindful of the limp he'd developed from the cut of that cursed snake, towards a rock wall that had a modestly sized waterfall running into a small pool.

A soon as Jack felt the mist of the water, he fumbled for the wall and braced a hand against it, then pushed his face into the steady spray. He remained there for a while, rubbing at his face with his free hand, largely ignoring the scoundrel who was attempting to wash his clothes of the foul sewer stink without completely soaking himself.

It was only a partial success on either front. Sighing, he just stood under the waterfall, letting it soak and clean him. The clothes would dry eventually. Being wet and clean was much better than being dry and disgusting. He shook out his trench coat and draped it over a rock to drip until Jack was ready to leave. He peeled his shirt off and rung the excess water from it before putting it back on. At least the dampness felt pleasant, it was still very warm in the oasis.

"It's coming off." Jack said to him after a time. His head and body were completely soaked now as well.

Jack moved away from the waterfall, wringing out his hair and wiping water from his face. He seated himself carefully on the nearest rock, inspecting his cut leg.

"Is it bad?" Lyndon inquired.

"No." Jack said to him while he dug through a pocket in his cloak. He pulled out some strips of cloth and a container that Eirena had given to them. It contained a salve of her own making that she said could heal minor injuries very effectively.

The wound had been rinsed well by the waterfall, but was deep and still leaked blood. Jack spread some of the ochre colored substance on the gash, gritting his teeth again. They watched as the wound closed, almost completely, before their astonished eyes.

"Very useful stuff that!" Lyndon exclaimed. Jack wrapped the wound tightly anyways, as a precaution.

"Yes, I must remember to thank her when we see her next. Ready to go?" Jack said to him.

"Wait, shouldn't you rest or whatnot for a few minutes?" Lyndon said.

"I already did." Jack said absently.

"Being unconscious doesn't count." Lyndon shot back.

Jack ignored him.

"You also might be... a little _poisoned_." The scoundrel offered. Thinking of what the hunter could have inhaled from the exploding foliage.

“A _little_ poisoned?" The demon hunter repeated in irritation. "How can you be a little poisoned? You're either poisoned, or not- Ugh, it doesn't matter. I cannot rest now, we have a mission to complete. Besides, I feel fine.” He said, shaking the water from his cloak.

"Fine then, just thought you might want to avoid keeling over again, covered in filth like a vomit laden drunk." Lyndon said airily.

"Good thing you're around to help me." Jack replied with mild sarcasm.

"Yes, you should be grateful to have me." Lyndon said smugly.

Jack smirked at that. Lyndon liked it best when he could make the other man laugh, but so far he'd only managed to do that once.

"Lyndon..." Jack said softly, watching him with those strange glowing eyes. "Thank you. Truly. You saved my life back there."

Lyndon waved him off, a bit embarrassed by the other mans gratitude. To think he had nearly _abandoned_ him there...

"It was nothing. But if you _really_ want to thank me you can load my bag with golden goblets filled with gems of every color!" Lyndon said, smiling widely.

"I already _pay_ you plenty." Jack replied, exasperated. "When you do the work to _earn_ it."

"How about letting me go where I _want_ for once in Caldeum when we stop in next?" He asked hopefully, thinking of the brothels he had visited earlier before Jack had forbidden him from disappearing every night. Something about it not being safe or some such _rot_.

"Not happening." The hunter said, deadpanned.

"Prophet's bones, you're so ungrateful!" Lyndon replied sulkily.

"Hmm." Jack muttered, walking away from him.

They went back to the clearing to collect their things and pick through the corpses for something useful. Lyndon was inspecting the plant cautiously, curiosity getting the better if him. It had blossomed into a large pink flower.

"Looks rather pretty after though doesn't it?" Lyndon said cheerfully, pointing it out.

Jack merely sighed, staring at the flower with contempt.

"Yes. I suppose it does." He conceded.


	4. Rage

 

“ _Anger is a brief madness.”_

\--- Horace, _Epistles_ (Book 1)

 

The sun was very hot at midday and everyone at the hidden camp on the outskirts of Caldeum was lying low. It was much too hot to be running about slaying demons. Despite the time constraint, Jack conceded that everyone needed a little rest or else they surely would not make it. Lyndon wholeheartedly agreed with this statement and eagerly found himself a spot in the shade, stripped off his duster and settled in for a much needed _nap_.

The Demon Hunter had disappeared somewhere, and Lyndon didn't much care just _where_ he'd gone so long as he didn't bother him. Haedrig was laying on the cooler ground underneath his wagon, unable to take the additional heat produced by his forge. Kormac was stationed miserably under Leah's tent while she helped him out of his ridiculously heavy armor. Lyndon was surprised the proud idiot hadn't succumbed to heat sickness.

Eirena, their newest (and loveliest) companion paced about awkwardly in the sun. She claimed she was used to the desert heat, but, noting the porcelain like paleness of her fair skin, Lyndon had his doubts that she had actually spent much time _outside_.

 Much as he enjoyed gazing at her, he could feel his nap calling him and he closed his eyes and relaxed.

"Jack, uhm. He does not _speak_ much does he?" Eirena said to Lyndon, she was much closer than she had been a few moments ago. Eugh... She was certainly _pretty_ with a nice figure he could appreciate, but he did not much enjoy actually talking to her. She was generally oblivious to any of his advances and Kormac always treated him poorly after he spoke with her.

Well, more poorly than _usual_.

"He's shy." Lyndon said to her quickly, not opening his eyes, fervently hoping that she would go away.

"I do not think so.” She continued thoughtfully. “He fights very ferociously... He's not quite what I expected. He- he makes me _nervous_." She admitted sheepishly.

"He can be a little grim sometimes but he's a _lamb_ , truly." Lyndon said in an attempt to reassure her. Jack? _Scary_? Bah!

"You talk to him a lot, does he say much about me? Do I do well enough to please him?" She continued, sitting beside him, her very presence draining away valuable minutes he could be spending _asleep_. He opened his eyes and squinted at her in the light.

"I talk _at_ him a lot. He doesn't say much of anything, _really_ , you shouldn't worry. He said you were _very_ helpful earlier with helping him find the cultist dens.” Lyndon replied lazily.

“Really? He likes me?” She asked earnestly, smiling hopefully.

"Everyone likes you. You're _very_ pretty.” Lyndon said with a wry smile.

She huffed at that, then softened again."I just want to do what the prophet asked of me, I want to make sure I can be helpful in fulfilling the prophecy I was sent here for."

"You have more in common with Kormac than you know." Lyndon muttered, shifting to get more comfortable. “He said you were a skilled fighter, _wise_ in the ways of magic and that you will aid us greatly."

“He said that about me?” Eirena asked, smiling.

“No.” Lyndon said flatly.

“...Excuse me?” She asked, confused.

“Like I said, he hasn't said _anything_ , that is just _my_ humble opinion. Go away, I'm trying to _sleep_!” He grumbled, turning away from her.

“Uhm, thank you. I think?” She said lightly, walking away to talk to Leah.

 

=+=+=+=+=+=

 

“Please don't leave me!” The little girl whined pitifully, standing bloodied among the ruined corpses that were likely all that remained of her family. There were some hours left before the sun set, but the shadows cast here were already as dark as night.

So familiar. The pain and hate burned just below the surface.

“Don't be afraid, let me _help_ you.” Jack breathed, lowering his weapons and coming toward her, Lyndon trailed behind him, his face tense with anxiety.

Wasn't she about Halissa's age? Maybe he could save _this_ one. This time it would be _different_.

Just as he reached her she vanished and there was low laughter.

He froze in shock. What?

“What the- ?” Was Lyndon's stunned reply before large demons and cultists poured from every opening of the buildings surrounding them.

“An _ILLUSION_?!” Jack seethed, feeling a snarl crawl its way out of him like a tunneling beast.

How dare they?! How DARE they trick him like this?!

They would _pay_! They would _PAY_ for what they did to his sister! His _FAMILY_!

THEY WOULD PAY IN _BLOOD_!

He didn't remember much after that. There was only blood and death and a dark, wretched rage that burned away every thought within him and propelled every arrow he fired. Black smoke spilled from his shoulders as he eviscerated a cultist, slicing it from groin to throat.

Eventually there was nothing left and someone was speaking to him, calling his name.

"Jack?" Lyndon asked hesitantly. The Demon Hunter stood there panting in the aftermath of the slaughter, soaked in gore, struggling to separate memory from reality.

“Are you home?” There was a light touch on his arm, he turned to it with a growl, weapons ready.

Lyndon pulled his hand back as if he'd been burned, face pale and startled as if he were _afraid_ Jack would-

He pulled himself back to his center, taking a deep, calming breath. _Hatebegetsterrorbegets-_

"I'm sorry.” His voice sounded raw and strange, like it was not his own. “I did not mean to frighten you."

Lyndon smiled weakly and laughed it off, lingering traces of fear causing the smile to not reach his eyes.

"You need to watch that _temper_ of yours." He said with a slightly terrified grin.

The scoundrel cast him more than a few concerned glances for the rest of the day.

 

=+=+=+=+=

 

Lyndon thought he probably ought to take _back_ what he had said to Eirena about Jack. A _lamb_? No. Nononono... He was a _far cry_ from a lamb.

He was the _wolf_ among them.

 


	5. The Southern Highlands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going back in time now. I hope its not too confusing that these are a little out of order. I'll probably re-order them chronologically when I have more written.
> 
> Lyndon does love his little jokes.
> 
> (puns are not mine, they were acquired from various sources)

 

“ _Forgive me....I called you an idiot._

_I spoke too hastily. You are not._

_Had I given it more thought,_

_I would have called you a scoundrel.”_

― Lloyd Alexander, Westmark Trilogy

 

 

“Can we take a break yet? My feet hurt!” Lyndon whined piteously behind him.

Jack sighed, irritated. It was the umpteenth time the thief had complained in the last few hours. They had been searching the Southern Highlands for _hours_ for Karyna's wagon to get the Khazra staff back and had yet to come upon it. For the life of her, that girl could not even begin to describe the area where she had left it. She had been too frightened by the maddened Khazra that had chased her into Araneae's webs.

Kormac was back in New Tristram with Leah, helping stem the tide of restless undead and demons that assaulted the town on a regular basis. Jack had heard (from Lyndon) that Kormac was _very_ frightened of spiders and, as a kindness, recommended that the Templar stay in town and help the villagers, promising to come back for him once they'd breached the Khazra barricade. He had found this agreeable, as he had been sweating profusely ever since they had read Deckard Cain's journal entry about the caves.

His heart ached every time he thought of the kind old Horadrim and the heartbroken girl he had left behind. That _witch_ could not drown in her own blood soon enough.

The Demon Hunter feared no animal, magical or otherwise, and enjoyed the spiderling he had adopted. He supposed he would have to let it go before he saw Kormac again.

Despite his annoyance at his newest freelancer, he took Lyndon along with him instead, thinking a cave of man-eating spiders might straighten out his behavior and give the careless man a bit of _perspective_ as to how dangerous their quest actually was.

No such luck.

He had jested about Kormac's phobia, helped the Demon Hunter slay Queen Aranaea with relative ease and had made a rather _lewd_ comment about the size of the poor rescued Vecin girls' chest.

Despite Lyndon's many shortcomings, Jack had to respect his skill with both crossbow and blade. He had not been lying when he claimed to have been in a high position within the Thieves Guild.

Thinking that the man might shut up for a while if he got what he wanted, Jack finally conceded.

“Alright, but only for a moment. We have a lot of ground to cover.” The hunter said evenly.

“Thank Akarat!” Lyndon moaned, seating himself quickly on a rock that lay against a tree and pulling his worn boots off. “Time wounds all _heels_.” He said with a smile.

Jack rolled his eyes and took a seat nearby. “Instead of spending your gold on _drink_ you should purchase a better pair of boots.” Jack lectured calmly, inspecting the workings of his twin crossbows.

Lyndon rubbed his sore feet carefully, wincing. “That's very sound advice. This old shoe's on its last leg!” He laughed to himself, looking to Jack earnestly, hoping that he might laugh as well.

The hunter narrowed his eyes and continued adjusting the delicate mechanisms in his weapons.

“No?” Lyndon said, when Jack didn't smile. “Well, how about, 'the ankle was an arch enemy of the heel because the heel had a sole that could neither toe the line nor keep instep!” He exclaimed with a throaty laugh.

“Stop it!” Jack snapped.

“You're no fun...” The scoundrel muttered sulkily.

“This isn't an afternoon stroll. We're fighting for our _lives_ here.” Jack retorted seriously.

Lyndon merely sighed dramatically.

They sat there for some minutes and Jack waited rather impatiently for the thief to finish adjusting his boots and fawning over his feet. The man was clearly not used to having to be anywhere in a _timely_ manner, he probably took his sweet time traveling to whatever destination he fancied.

Jack never did any such thing. He went where his mentor asked him and followed his orders to the best of his ability.

Lyndon adjusted his position against the tree at his back and yelled in surprise as it shifted violently, roaring to life with a deep bellow.

Jack launched himself to his feet and dispatched the creature swiftly, filling it with arrows. He grabbed Lyndon by the collar, and hauled him a safe distance away from the scattered blossoms that had begun to burst open and emit foul, poisonous fumes.

Lyndon shrugged out of his grip, but nevertheless looked deeply grateful that he was alive. “I think its time we moved on.” Jack suggested calmly, letting Lyndon catch his breath.

“Yes. Good idea.” He replied weakly, swallowing. But then a sly smile crept onto his face. “When the nomadic tree senses danger, it packs up its _trunk_ and _leaves!_ ” He said, cackling madly.

“Love the sound of your own _voice_ do you?” Jack hissed angrily, deeply annoyed.

“Perhaps if I were a tree you would take a _lichen_ to me! HaHAhaha!” Lyndon wheezed, trailing after the Demon Hunter who had begun to quickly walk away from him.

Jack began to seriously contemplate how he might feed the frustrating idiot to the goatmen.

 


	6. Dislocated

 

“ _We can never be gods, after all, but we can become something less than human with frightening ease.”_  
― N.K. Jemisin, _The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms_

 

 

The Dark Thrall moved towards him, a twisted, hovering form that used to be a man. But no longer. Its body dripped with blood that oozed from every orifice. The price of the transformation, Jack thought, and aimed his crossbows at it, more than prepared to remove it from this realm. Then it suddenly roared and changed direction, rushing at Lyndon instead with lightning speed. Lyndon's surprised yell echoed loudly against the bloodied stone as the abomination struck him, propelling him into a wall. Jack turned to kill it but Kormac was there first, impaling it with a well-placed thrust of his spear.

Its death cry hurt his ears and he winced against its screams, waiting for it to just _die_ already. Then the creature's writhing ceased and its body degraded into a pile of bloodied meat.

“Lyndon, are you alright?” Jack asked, approaching the thief from where he was picking himself up from the floor.

“Owwww... _owww_!” He hissed, cradling his right shoulder. “I think it's broken, is it broken?” He asked, voice strained.

Jack sighed, “Let me see.” and reached for the arm the thief cradled protectively.

“Don't bloody touch it!” He shouted, pulling away from the Demon Hunter's hands.

“He has to touch it to know if it's broken! Stop complaining!” Kormac snapped.

“Shut _up_ Kormac!” Lyndon shot back.

“Be quiet, both of you! Have you forgotten where we are?” Jack growled lowly.

They both went silent and all that could be heard was the yawning dark of Leoric's torture dungeon and Lyndon's harsh breaths. Jack hesitantly felt the arm and shoulder the thief desperately tried not to move. He could feel a squaring of the shoulder muscles that was familiar to him, but he needed to see it to be sure.

“Help me get his coat and tunic off.” He remarked to Kormac.

“Why do you want to do _that_? Is it _broken_?” Lyndon asked with deep distrust.

“No. Keep your voice down.” Jack said calmly, divesting the thief of his duster and shirt with Kormac's help. They eased the sleeves down the wounded arm while the scoundrel grit his teeth to hold back cries of pain.

Now the hunter could see it clearly. A dislocated shoulder as he thought, they just needed to get the ball of the arm bone back into the shoulder socket, then Kormac could heal it and the man would be fine. This plan hinged on Lyndon allowing him to actually _move_ the arm however.

“What... what is it?” Lyndon asked when Jack didn't say anything right away.

“Oh, its _broken_ isn't it?” The thief moaned pathetically, “I'll have to get it _braced_ and have my arm in a bloody _sling_ for Akarat knows _how_ long and I won't be able to-”

“It's not _broken_ Lyndon, its dislocated. You have to let me move your arm.” Jack said to him, interrupting his mournful babbling.

“Dislocated? Surely you mean one half of my bone is dislocated from the _other_ half right? And- and _move_ it? Are you _mad_?! Do you have any idea how badly this hurts?!” He yelled as loudly as he could manage whilst still keeping his voice low, his efforts making him sound a little hoarse.

“Will you _stop_ your childish complaining?! Its only a little _pain_ you miserable ingrate!” Kormac grit through his teeth.

“I _do_ know how much it hurts. I've had my arm dislocated four times on the right and two on the left.” Jack said evenly, removing his gloves and placing his hands on either side of the curve of the scoundrel's shoulder, feeling gently. “Pain is pain Kormac, it takes training to suppress it, not everyone is like you and I.” He continued.

“Try to at least _control_ yourself then, bear it like a man.” Kormac lectured in what he probably thought was a helpful tone of voice. It only served to upset Lyndon further.

Lyndon glared at him angrily “I can't wait until _you_ get hurt. I bet _you'll_ -”

“Enough. Both of you.” Jack sighed, annoyed by their bickering. They had a _time limit_ here. “We just need to push the bone back into the joint, then Kormac can fix the rest, you'll be fine.”

“What do you mean push it?” Lyndon asked, voice hushed.

“I mean what I said. It will be over fast.” Jack said, bracing one hand on the side of the man's ribcage and gripped his forearm tightly with his other hand. Kormac held the scoundrel steady on the other side.

The thief had gone quiet and pale, trembling all over as if waiting for the executioner's axe to cleave his head from his shoulders.

Jack sighed again, taking pity on him. “It's alright, take a deep breath.” Jack said to the thief as gently as he could manage.

“Yes. It's a simple thing. It'll stop hurting right away.” Kormac offered, perhaps feeling a bit sorry for the thief himself.

Lyndon nodded quickly, but seemed unconvinced. Jack would not make fun of his fright. He knew how bad the pain could be before he had become skilled at both blocking out most forms of pain, and popping his own dislocated shoulders back in with a well placed shove against a wall.

Jack noticed some white lines, not too many, and not raised, crisscrossing the scoundrel's bare back. Years-old scars. “These scars on your back.” He inquired. “Where did you get them?”

“Do you remember... when I said I'd only been caught stealing _once_? Until _you_ of course.” Lyndon said in a shaky voice.

Jack thought this might be a good way to distract the thief from the pain. “I remember. What happened?” He inquired, moving Lyndon's arm into place before he made the necessary pull.

“When I was... oww, oww, _damn_! I was _fifteen_. I was caught stealing from this noble. Something I wanted to give my brother to appease him because we'd had an argument the day before. They sentenced me to four hours in the stocks, but not before I got twenty lashes from the _cat_.”

“Take a deep breath. What happened next?” Jack asked conversationally, catching Kormac's eye to tell him he was ready.

Lyndon sucked in air, “The noble said he thought that twenty lashes was _merciful_ , that I should be grateful it was not more. The rotten _bastard_. He said he only asked for less because I was _young_. But let me tell you, twenty or eighty or a _thousand_ doesn't matter, they _all_ feel just as bad and I-”

He was cut off from whatever he was going to say next when Jack pulled hard on his arm and shifted the bone easily back into place. There was a gasp, whatever color that was left in the thief’s face drained away and his eyes went out of focus. He slumped against the Demon Hunter in a dead faint.

“Kormac.” Jack said quickly.

“Right.” Kormac said, then held his hands over the newly connected joints, his large hands emitting soft flashes of light that mended any torn ligaments or muscle tissue. Then it was healed as if nothing had happened.

After a minute, Lyndon stirred with a moan and Jack helped him sit up with a hand on his back.

“Alright?” The hunter asked.

“I think this hurt worse than the cat did.” Lyndon mumbled, looking dizzy and nauseous.

“Yes. I remember it being very painful. Keep your head down if you feel sick.” Jack replied. Kormac handed the thief a skin of water which he drank from eagerly.

“Doesn't hurt anymore does it?” Kormac asked with a slight smile.

“No. Thank you.” Lyndon replied, sounding genuinely grateful as he gingerly pulled on his shirt and duster again, he sat still for a few minutes, breathing slowly, before Jack helped him to his feet.

“We must keep moving. That stranger waits for our aid.” Kormac said quietly. Jack nodded at him. "And Maghda waits for her _death_."

"Aye." Kormac agreed.

“Being caught and punished didn't stop you from stealing then?” Jack asked Lyndon as they began to move again, searching empty, bloodied cells and turning down dark, humid corridors.

“No, it only motivated me to become _better_ at it, and here I am!” The thief answered wryly.

Kormac muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Degenerate.” but didn't say anything more. Lyndon merely laughed, more or less back to his normal impish self.

“What was it you stole from the noble to earn such a punishment” Jack asked curiously. It must have been jewelry of some kind, something expensive.

“It was an orange. My brother really liked them.” Lyndon replied simply.

There in the torture chambers, _affectionately_ referred to as the Halls of Agony by some, Jack reflected on man's capacity for cruelty. Some of them could be just as bad as the demons he hunted. Sometimes worse.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "cat" Lyndon refers to is the Cat o' Nine Tails, a multi-roped whip that was popularly used in the middle ages as punishment for many crimes including theft.


	7. A Kindness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated in a bit, the new Diablo patch is distracting me. (Jack's paragon 32 already!)
> 
> This one is extra long, the longest so far. I hope that makes up for it. 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

 

“By day the hot sun fermented us; and we were dizzied by the beating wind. At night we were stained by dew, and shamed into pettiness by the innumerable silences of stars.”  
― T.E. Lawrence, _Seven Pillars of Wisdom: A Triumph_

 

 

The first few days in Caldeum were spent learning the ins and outs of the city, save the inner walls, which were barred to all. Mostly, the help at finding their way around came from Leah who knew the city very well, especially the hidden passageways through the sewers. Lyndon, who had been to Caldeum before, didn't mind showing them shortcuts and secret paths that he remembered from his brief visit. He liked to show Jack around, the hunter noticed, it must have allowed him to feel superior, knowing something Jack didn't. The hunter ignored such petty things and allowed the thief his paltry pleasures, committing the paths to memory.

Jack had never been across the Twin Seas before and, if he could have felt something other than a thirst for vengeance and an eagerness to hunt the demonic forces tainting the ancient city, he might have marveled at the strange, new things he had never seen. Leah had called the city open and beautiful and he had been interested to see it firsthand, but now that he was here, he only saw people starving, frightened and miserable, the stench of demonic corruption poisoning the air. It wasn't long before he and his companions became acquainted with the Iron Wolves and began to search the desert surrounding the city for the Triune's faithful.

He sat very still by the fire, moving only his eyes to take stock of his companions. It was a comforting nightly ritual, to check on each of them to make sure that all was well and that no one was missing or in any distress. He looked at Haedrig's caravan. The fires of his forge burnt low and the windows in the small living space were dark, Jack assumed he was asleep.

Kormac had been reading the books he had found in the New Tristram cathedral, making notes now and again in his journal. He, Jack and Leah had examined the cypher the books were written in at length, trying to find a pattern or key that would allow them to be translated. They had gotten some insight from books written by Deckard Cain that Leah had shown to them, but the full translations still eluded them. Jack wondered if he had found anything recently that might help him retrieve his memories, but did not ask, as he knew the Templar would speak to him about it in time. He now slept as well, books and writing material piled underneath his heavy shield.

Tyrael spent much of his free time reading Leah's books, or sitting quietly, observing the people around him with great interest. It must be strange, Jack thought, to become mortal and experience so many thoughts and feelings that were completely foreign to his previous angelic nature. The archangel seemed to be handling the changes well, he was very optimistic about his new mortality. He appeared to be sleeping, leaning up against a crate with his eyes closed, but Jack could never be sure.

The scoundrel disappeared most evenings, which left a rather large gap of time where Jack could not keep an eye on him. Lyndon was no doubt engaging in various illegal or indecent activities somewhere in the city. Jack didn't much care, as long as he didn't bring any trouble _back_ with him when he slunk back into the hidden camp, usually an hour or two before dawn. Jack assumed he wanted to be around to continue earning gold when Jack went out again in the morning. At least the man was dedicated in _that_ respect.

He had not gone away this night however, having instead gone straight to bed when they finally returned to the camp hours ago, too tired to even wait for their food to finish cooking. They had spent the entire day out in the desert. Several days of fighting demons and Lacuni in the unforgiving sun and late nights out, undoubtedly spent with women and drink, had apparently caught up with him. He snored heavily off and on, curled on his bedroll by the fire.

The Demon Hunter turned his attention elsewhere and could hear bits of the conversation Leah was having with the noblewoman Kala, who had been thrown out of the city along with her wealthy companions. Leah spoke to her daily, to make sure she was fairing alright. The young woman was too frightened to stay in the bazaar with the other survivors and cast out citizens. She opted instead to stay in the hidden camp, away from the threat of desperate people who would steal her beautiful silk garments or worse. Jack would not let any harm befall her, or anyone else in the hidden camp for that matter. He considered every person in his radius his responsibility, and that included strangers. Kala spoke of how frightened she had been when she had first been evicted. The poor girl had never even been outside the walls of the city before. He couldn't imagine being so sheltered. She said that when her initial fear faded, she was amazed. She said the world was _beautiful_.

Jack was privately inclined to disagree.

But sometimes, the _way_ she spoke. He could almost see the city in a new light, the _world_ in a new light, as something far gentler and more wondrous than it was. But then he'd hear the suffering of the men and women cast outside the city, the quiet crying of children who went to bed hungry, and recognized it as merely a passing fancy.

A fantasy.

The young merchant girl, Squirt she called herself, caused painful emotions to stir within him at the sight of her. Speaking with her was difficult, but he made sure to give her as much business as he could so that she could earn a decent living. She was strong, for one so young. He was glad she was able to make her way in the world. Squirt hid herself at night, not even Jack had been able to discern her hiding place. She was a very wise little girl. Leah spoke to her often as well, and had even braided her hair for her once.

Leah was so kind, sometimes Jack found it a bit beyond belief. People like her weren't supposed to exist anymore in Sanctuary.

Lyndon made a noise, diverting his attention. The thief was talking in his sleep. " _Please_ .” He mumbled. “I'm _sorry_." A nightmare. Jack was no stranger to them. He debated waking the man, there was deep pain in his voice and it saddened him to hear it, but Jack did not like being woken from his own dreams, preferring that other people were not involved in the dark things that haunted his thoughts. He liked to extend others the same courtesy.

"'m sorry..." The scoundrel murmured again, fingers tightening on the blanket he clutched around himself. Jack was uncomfortable being present for such a private moment. Lyndon quieted quickly however, the furrows in his brow smoothing.

Jack wondered what he was running from, and what such a carefree and unhesitatingly _selfish_ man could be so sorry for that it haunted him in his dreams. Perhaps the brother that he spoke of? The scoundrel would not reveal what had become of him. Jack could sympathize with his pain, he understood what it was like to lose a treasured sibling, to the cold hands of death or other means. They had that in common at least.

Lyndon jerked and woke suddenly, sitting up and blinking in the firelight. He stared blearily at Jack a few moments, squinting at him until he recognized him, before turning away, shifting to sit in a cross legged position. The thief sat quietly for several minutes, staring into the darkness, before he turned to the Demon Hunter.

“Is there anything I can have to eat?” He asked hesitantly.

Of course he would be hungry, he hadn't eaten any supper, but Jack thought it strange of him to ask in such a way, like he didn't have a right to it. Lyndon had never been shy about taking anything from him or anyone else before, given freely or _otherwise_. It was strange to see him act in a way that _wasn't_ irritatinglycheerful and overconfident.

Jack nodded at him to acknowledge his question, and reached for the pot near the fire. It was something Leah had cooked earlier, rice and vegetables, simple and filling. Jack wasn't sure if it had been good or bad, he hadn't tasted it when he ate, mind still out in the desert. They had saved some for Lyndon, since he had stayed rather than going out, and Jack filled a bowl with what was left, handing it to him silently.

The scoundrel accepted the bowl of food with a murmur of thanks and ate. He was chewing slowly and staring into the fire with a look of such sadness that Jack simply had to comment.

“Is everything alright Lyndon?” He asked quietly.

The thief started, expression quickly changing to one of amused indifference, “Oh, y-yes, of _course_! Why wouldn't it be? I'm just a little _tired_ from all the fun we've been having lately.” He said with his usual smile. It was a lie, Jack knew, but he didn't want to upset the thief by inquiring further. The smile fell away as soon as Lyndon thought the Demon Hunter was no longer watching him.

Perhaps he wasn't feeling well? Jack worried that he may have been pushing the man too hard, he was not a trained warrior after all and was not accustomed to the pace of fighting demons and hostile creatures day after day. That and he stayed out much too late to get proper rest. The hunter would be willing to teach him a few things to make it easier and improve his skills, if the thief actually bothered to _listen_ to him. He seemed interested in the way Jack enchanted his arrows, but would rather tease him than ask any questions about it.

Jack could hear Kala's voice again, by the sound of her voice, it sounded as though she were reading something aloud. He diverted his attention from the thief to listen.

“When the desert sands silence their whispers in the night, and the thousand lights of the stars bleed into the darkness, I will find you in the void. My love will pour from me as words pour from my pen.” She said.

Leah's voice broke the ensuing silence, “Kala that was beautiful!”

“Thank you miss Leah, I like to write, I think I shall do it more often.” Kala said to her shyly. Their conversation continued, quieter now, and Jack stopped eavesdropping, not wishing to strain to hear to them over the sound of the crackling fire. He pushed another piece of scrap wood into the flames.

It _was_ a pretty poem, Jack had to admit, the stars almost seemed brighter when he looked at them.

Lyndon sat with his eyebrows knit, the sorrowful expression was back, and he gnawed on his thumbnail absently, staring at the flickering light.

“Jack?” The thief asked suddenly. There was no singsong voice or nicknames, he sounded completely serious, even a little nervous.

“Yes?” Jack looked at him curiously.

“Can I... sit next to you?” He asked timidly.

Jack was a little taken aback, but curious. “Alright...”

Lyndon grabbed his blanket and bedroll and dragged them around to Jack's side of the fire. He sat down next to him with a sigh, close enough for their shoulders to touch. Jack moved away slightly, uncomfortable, but Lyndon just scooted closer again so Jack sighed and just let him do what he wanted. The thief was looking at the ground, twisting the blanket in his hands.

“What troubles you?” Jack asked him, moving the coals around the fire bed with a long stick.

Lyndon sighed. "I miss my brother." He admitted eventually. "I miss... _talking_ to him."

Ah, that was it. He was lonely.

"Surely you will be able to see him again?" Jack offered gently, wondering what kind of trouble Lyndon had caused (he assumed it was, at the very least, _partially_ the scoundrel's fault) that prevented him from seeing his brother.

"Perhaps." Lyndon said thoughtfully. "But not for some time yet." He finished with a sigh.

Leah approached the fire, having bid Kala goodnight, she seemed about to say something, but stopped when she saw that he and Lyndon were talking, or perhaps she caught sight of the expression on the thief's face. She waved instead and Jack raised his hand slightly to acknowledge her. Lyndon did not look up.

"When I see him he can tell me how _foolish_ and _reckless_ I've been.” The thief continued with a slight smile. “Well, I guess that's rather similar to what _you_ say to me most days."

"Do I remind you of him?" Jack asked.

Lyndon frowned and looked out into the dark. "Sometimes." He quickly shoveled more food into his mouth.

He finished eating, and handed the bowl back to the Demon Hunter. “He probably doesn't even _want_ to see me though. None of them do.” Lyndon said sadly.

“Why not?” Jack asked, hoping to finally get the full story.

Lyndon seemed to retreat inside himself at the question and turned away from the hunter. His mouth went thin and eyebrows knit again in distress. “I _don't_ want to talk about it.” He mumbled curtly. He folded his arms over his knees and rested his head, closing his eyes.

“As you say.” Jack replied. He would not push for more, disliking personal questions himself. The thief would tell him eventually when he felt up to it.

...Or would he?

He realized that it was really only Haedrig that spoke to Lyndon somewhat frequently. Jack had observed them drinking and telling stories to each other more than once. Leah was annoyed by him (with good reason) and often ignored him. Kormac did talk to Lyndon sometimes, but it was rare and often ended in an argument. He'd seen Lyndon talk to Tyrael before, but it was unusual, he was more likely to speak with a Caldeum citizen than the strange archangel. And Jack... barely spoke to him at all unless it was to lecture him for carelessness, or if the thief pestered him enough with questions.

That wasn't to say that Lyndon hadn't tried. He talked to anyone and everyone who would listen as often as he could, but in the last few days the people in the camp tried to ignore him more often, tired of his incessant chatter. Lyndon must have been a bit hurt by this, he had stopped trying to talk to the others as much and spent more time out in the city.

He'd told Jack some time ago that the woman he loved had married his brother instead of him. Lyndon probably left to spend his time with other women to soothe the heartbreak. Did his thoughts trouble him more when he didn't go out in the evenings? Were women and drink the only coping mechanisms he had? Jack began to feel a little _sorry_ for him and vowed then to try to be a little kinder toward him from now on. And more _patient_ if he could manage it.

He was very lonely, despite how he acted, and if no one else but the blacksmith would be a friend to him, then Jack would at leasttry. He must remember to thank Haedrig when he got a minute to talk to him.

Lyndon sat with his eyes closed, wobbling a little from side to side, perhaps he'd fallen asleep again? Jack shook his shoulder a little. The scoundrel jumped and rubbed at his eyes wearily.

“What?” The thief inquired sleepily.

“You should go back to sleep. You're tired.” The hunter said quietly.

“ I... Yes, alright.” The scoundrel replied. He pulled his blanket around himself and laid down on his bedroll right next to where Jack sat. The closeness set the hunter on edge, but if such a simple thing brought the man comfort and helped him sleep easier, Jack would not be so cruel as to take that away from him.

And he _did_ fall back to sleep quickly, there were no more nightmares either.

Jack waited until he could hear Leah sleeping, safe under her tent, before he allowed himself to sleep a few hours before the sun came up.

 

=+=+=+=+

 

“I hear they _behead_ thieves in these parts.” Jack teased, letting a touch of humor enter his voice.

“You're trying to scare me.” Lyndon called back with a grin. “It won't work!”

The thief pointed at the edge of a cliff excitedly, “Hey! Pull that lever! Someone left a chest down there!”

Jack sighed, and complied and they split the stash of gold hidden inside between them.

The scoundrel woke that morning in significantly better spirits, and having gotten plenty of rest, was positively chipper. Jack was relieved, he felt sorry about how troubled the thief was last night.

Lyndon and Kormac accompanied him into the desert as they did every day. Ignoring each other to avoid a verbal fight was also normal, though sometimes the thief did not know when to keep his mouth shut. They _had_ been getting better lately, Jack noticed, practically civil with each other, but were quite some time away from actually becoming _friends_.

They had recently met a strange young woman, Eirena her name was. She had some impressive skills with magic and volunteered to assist them in flushing the coven out of their hiding places. Jack could not help but notice how Kormac was immediately smitten with the girl. It had not escaped Lyndon's attention either and amused the thief to no end.

As it happened, Kormac and Eirena had split up from them so that they could cover more ground. He didn't want to create any distress for the Templar and his obvious attraction for the enchantress, but he did _not_ trust Lyndon alone with her.

Not that he thought that Lyndon would _attack_ her or anything. He just knew the man would be insufferable and would probably drive the poor girl mad with his relentless, unsubtle flirtations. Not to mention Kormac would be unable to function, knowing that the thief and the enchantress were alone together.

Taking Eirena with him, and pairing up the scoundrel with the Templar was a poor option as well. As much as he wanted to know more about Eirena, he wanted to avoid providing opportunities for Lyndon and Kormac to get cross with each other and destroy their tenuous truce.

So he took the thief with him and sent the other two out on their own.

Jack spied a man crawling away from the mouth of a mine shaft and quickly ran to him. It was one of Asheara's Iron Wolves.

“We were ambushed in the cave.” The dying man relayed to him after Jack gave him some water. “Help the others...” He said.

“You have my word.” Jack said to him, Lyndon nodded in agreement, he never said much when they ran into situations like this, where someone was beyond help. He didn't seem to be very good at handling death. Jack didn't mind, preferring he kept quiet rather than say something he might regret.

Jack let the dying man drink as much water as he wanted, but the water skin soon slipped from his lax fingers as his body went still and he stopped breathing. The hunter took the water back from him and hurried inside the cave, the scoundrel trailing silently behind him.

They carefully unwound the pulley system that would lower them into the dark mine and upon reaching the bottom of the pit, were quickly beset by packs of enraged Lacuni. Jack tried to keep at least one eye on the scoundrel to make sure that he was not hurt or killed, but Lyndon was in fine form today and killed two right off the bat and blinded another with a well placed handful of sand.

Satisfied, Jack was able to turn his full attention to the Iron Wolves that were left alive inside, yelling for help. One by one, they saved the Iron Wolves there and formed a larger group, beating back the Lacuni and slaughtering all that lay in their path. When at last they reached the squad captain, they thought they had cleared the mine of all threats.

“Everyone’s accounted for, or dead. Thank you for your aid hunter, you must be the one Asheara informed me of. Men, finish patching up these two and let's get out of this damn pit!”

“Yes. I'm glad we could help.” Jack said before a distant rumbling started somewhere behind them, growing louder with each moment.

“Do you hear that?” One man exclaimed, then a massive Lacuni warrior leapt from the rocks with several huntresses in tow. “Another ambush!” The Iron Wolves scattered before regrouping in a valiant attempt to protect the wounded.

“Kill that big Lacuni!” The captain yelled. He needn't have said anything at all for the Demon Hunter was already killing it with precise shots.

Having finally killed all the Lacuni, the surviving Iron Wolves were able to make it out of the mine safely and journey back to Caldeum. The captain rewarded Jack and Lyndon with gold and jewels retrieved from deep within the mine. Lyndon was overjoyed.

Bags full to nearly bursting with treasure, they left the mine and went to rendezvous with Kormac and Eirena to see if they had found any of the cultist's hiding places.

“We saved a lot of people back there.” Jack said to the scoundrel as they ran across the sands.

“Awfully proud of that, aren't you?” Lyndon shot back, struggling to lift the heavy bag of gold over his shoulder, but unwilling to leave any behind to make carrying it easier.

“You were a big help.”

“Hmph. I just... carried out the treasure.” The scoundrel replied nonchalantly, but beamed at the Demon Hunter anyway.


	8. Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Been neglecting this fic in favor of others... I actually have like a million more of these that just need fleshing out and editing. We're not even into act 3 yet, but most of these that I have are from act 2, lmao.
> 
> God... can't play Reaper of Souls until my collector's Edition comes in the mail tomorrow, thanks for the early release and rubbing it in my face Blizz. >_> (Just kidding, I hope everyone's having fun!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue heavy, which I tend to struggle with, but I think it came out well enough, and some sexual stuff in this chapter, not too explicit though, at least I don't think so.

  _I'm the beast and you're the master_  
_You're the meat of the matter_  
_I'm no fool for discretion_  
_When it's on the tip of my tongue._

-Big Dumb Sex, Soundgarden

 

The library was... _larger_ than Lyndon expected. Although he had been to Caldeum already a little over a year ago, he had never had reason to visit the grand building before. The word 'library' usually conjured memories of ornery old hags waiting for him to make a noise so they could hit and “shush” him. That and they tended to be utterly dull. He avoided them like the plague. But he had to admit, the Library of Caldeum was quite beautiful. It had architecture similar to the palace with rich greens, purples and carved marble, and it was _enormous_. He imagined it probably contained most of the collected knowledge of the known world. It luckily went untouched through the nastiness of Belial's little visit.

He had followed Jack, Eirena, Kormac, Leah and Tyrael inside and spent some time exploring at his leisure. The city was still reeling from the presence of the demon lord Belial, so there were very few people inside the large building. Everyone went their separate ways quickly, eager to see everything the building had to offer.

Kormac followed Eirena like a lost puppy, under the flimsy guise of searching for books relating to his Order, while she perused the towering bookcases with the wide eyed enthusiasm of a child in a sweet shop. Lyndon eavesdropped on them for a few moments, and learned that the practice and implementation of magic had changed much in fifteen hundred years, and that Kormac was hopelessly _smitten_ with their pretty new companion. Lyndon laughed to himself and continued on.

The scoundrel wandered aimlessly and came to a large room that seemed to be some sort of museum. He eyed expensive looking artifacts and crumbling, gold inlaid tomes that were displayed under glass. Giving a subtle glance around, he eagerly tried to open up one of the display cases housing a fabulous, gem encrusted goblet. As he moved to pick the shoddy looking lock, a small spark of electricity shocked his fingers painfully.

“Bloody _whore_!” He cursed as quietly as he could, dropping his tools. He picked the small metal items up gingerly, blowing on his fingertips and wincing. Some kind of _protection_ spell he supposed. He saw a sign at the edge of the display that he hadn't noticed before, warning visitors not to touch. Lyndon huffed and continued on through the library.

He came upon Leah and Tyrael in a dimly lit room in a rotunda and peeked in on them. They were going through piles of books together, trying to learn about Azmodan and did not notice him. After killing Belial and getting green, poisonous, slimy _nastiness_ all over his coat, the last thing Lyndon wanted to hear about was another bloody demon lord that needed killing, so he left quickly.

He looked around the library some more and passed by a darkened hallway where there were bookshelves sealed behind wooden lattice doors. Curious, he entered the hall and peered through the crosshatched barrier. The books he saw on the shelves had heavy chains binding them in place. The longer he looked, the more he began to realize that he could _hear_ something. It sounded like someone was whispering or having a conversation, then, as he stood there longer, he started to hear muffled _crying_ . He looked around, thinking someone might have been upset somewhere, but there was no one. Unnerved, he looked back at the books. He could make out faint lights, deep within the layered shelves and, as he stared, noticed that there was dark liquid that dripped from the edge of one shelf. It looked suspiciously like _blood_ . Just as he was beginning to think that he didn't want to _be_ there anymore, a book suddenly lurched forward from the shelf toward him. He yelped and hurriedly left, but not before spotting a sign that said 'Forbidden Section: Special permission required.' He escaped the dark hallway and back into the brightly lit, happier looking area where the non-frightening books were kept.

There didn't seem to be that much else to see, just thousands upon thousands of bookcases and how boring was that? He didn't know where the Demon Hunter had gone off too, he hadn't seen him as he'd looked around. Jack had specifically ordered him to stay in the library until they were ready to go, orders, he fully intended to disobey. What had he said? He didn't want to go looking for him? They needed to be ready to leave at a moment's notice or some such thing?

Bah, whatever.

Once Lyndon realized he couldn't _steal_ anything or find any way to entertain himself for an extended period of time, he quickly made for the doors.

He spotted the Iron Wolf, Jeryn hovering near the entrance and offered him a cheerful wave as he reached for the door handle. Just as he was about to open the door and leave, Jeryn's arm blocked him quickly.

"Um, excuse me, I have some business I need to attend to so if you would be _so_ kind as to-" Lyndon began.

"The Demon Hunter asked me to advise you to stay _inside_ the library and that I should inform him promptly should you attempt to leave the building." Jeryn explained leisurely with a smile.

" _Did_ he now?" Lyndon asked, feeling a vein start to pulse on the side of his head. The _nerve_ of that hunter nannying him like this!

"Yes, he is paying me handsomely for my time." Jeryn answered calmly.

"Wouldn't you rather spend your, no doubt _valuable_ time with your pretty young noblewoman instead of hassling poor little me?" Lyndon suggested sweetly.

"Oh, she'll be coming to visit me shortly, don’t you worry." Jeryn replied lazily.

"Did _dear_ Jack say what would happen after you, ehm, _informed_ him of my swift departure?" Lyndon asked curiously, not bothering to keep the acid out of his tone.

"I believe he said something to the effect of ' after you had been detained by the Iron Wolves patrolling the city, he would greet you at the door and haul your _wretched carcass_ back inside by the collar'." Jeryn explained with an irritating nonchalance.

"Ah. I... _see_ ." Lyndon replied, furious. Lyndon spun on his heel and headed back toward the heart of the library, positively _seething_.

"Good day mi'lord, enjoy the library." Jeryn called after him airily.

Lyndon walked back to the large fountain in the center of the main entrance room. What the Hell was he supposed to do now? He'd already bloody looked at everything that was worth looking at. He sat on the fountain edge and sulked. After a few minutes, he noticed that there more people inside now and they were staring at him and whispering amongst themselves. Embarrassed by the praise, the Demon Hunter had hoped they would not attract attention from any more admiring locals, but apparently word of their location traveled fast. People wanted to get a look at the ones responsible for saving their city apparently. He couldn't blame them, he was nice to look at!

Lyndon did not mind their admiring glances as many were women. The wheels suddenly kicked to life and started to turn in his head. If he couldn't leave to go to _them_ , even better that they came to _him_!

He quickly found a pretty young noble woman with brown hair tied up extravagantly. She was giving him the _eye_ and fingering the ties on her rather expensive looking silk outfit. Well, _that_ was easy. He grinned at her and walked over to introduce himself. She giggled and blushed as they always did, and then blushed harder when he whispered something in her ear. They escaped the crowd together, running hand in hand to somewhere more private.

Hidden in a storeroom, her squealing above him with her dress up over her ample breasts and his head between her legs, Lyndon began to feel his sour mood improve significantly.

 

=+=+=+=+=+=+=

 

Some time later, Lyndon was wandering through the library again, sipping spiced tea he had purchased from a food merchant downstairs. Trust that the first people to return when the fighting died down would be merchants looking to make some coin. The scoundrel was searching for the demon hunter, wondering if maybe he could provide him some amusement if he was going to be _stuck_ in here (he didn't even attempt to leave, knowing for a fact that Jack always made good on his threats and the thief had _no_ desire to tempt his ferocious temper). At least he had some spicy chai tea! He loved tea, almost as much as he loved wine. He really missed the signature black mint tea from Kingsport, it was his very favorite, but he loved trying new and exotic flavors as much as he loved trying new and exotic _women_ and this sweet and spicy, milky concoction was pleasant enough. He had also bought the Demon Hunter a coffee as a peace offering, as he wasn't sure whether or not Jack might have _already_ been cross with him.

After much searching, he tried a spiral staircase near where Tyrael and Leah were studying that he hadn't noticed before. He peered over the floor at the top of the stairs and saw that it opened up into a pretty balcony, and there he finally found the Demon Hunter seated at a long table, dark haired head bent over a rather large tome laid open in front of him. He wasn't wearing his heavier leather armor at the moment, but he was clad all in black as usual and stood out like a sore thumb among all the rich purples and greens and golds. Jack was writing in his personal journal that 'no one was allowed to read _ever_ under any circumstances', not that Lyndon hadn't tried on more than one occasion to snoop through it as he sometimes did with the other man's belongings. To his frustration he'd been caught every time. It only made him _more_ curious.

The scoundrel approached him carefully, unsure of his mood.

"I trust you had a pleasant talk with Jeryn?" Jack said to him without looking up.

"Yes, very." Lyndon answered lightly, rotten _bastard_.

Lyndon set the saucer of coffee in front of Jack carefully, then sat heavily a few seats away, emitting a childish sigh.

"You know if you wanted to spend time with me so badly you could have just _asked_." Lyndon teased.

"I told you to stay here and that we needed to be prepared to leave the moment Leah finds a clue." Jack replied flatly, absorbed in whatever he was scribbling. Well, at least he wasn't yelling at him. Jack _had_ been much nicer to him as of late, the thief wasn't quite sure why, but he was glad for it all the same.

“What is this?” Jack asked suspiciously, indicating the cup.

“Coffee. It's dark and bitter. You'll like it I'm _sure_.” Lyndon grumbled dryly.

The hunter glanced at him finally, then narrowed his eyes. The hunter's gaze flashed to his throat and Lyndon remembered his neck was covered in kiss marks from that noblewoman he'd already forgotten the name of. The thief grinned at him proudly.

“I've seen whores with more shame.” Jack said sullenly.

Lyndon threw his head back and laughed. “Hahaha!”

"I'd ask how you managed to do _that_ without leaving the library, but I know better." The hunter muttered irritably.

"They always seem to know _just_ where to find me." Lyndon answered with another laugh.

Jack merely sighed and turned back to his journal.

Sensing their little chat was over, Lyndon felt boredom start to creep back up on him. He rocked back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the table while he swirled his tea around in his glass, sighing.

"Why don't you read something instead of fidgeting?" Jack asked without looking up from the massive tome, turning the pages carefully.

"I did enough reading in school." Lyndon replied quickly, leaning back in his chair to rest his feet on the table.

“Get your filthy boots off the table!” Jack snapped.

“Ugh, yes _Mum_.” Lyndon sneered, flopping his feet back to the floor.

"You went to school?" Jack asked, ignoring his comment.

"I _had_ to, everyone in the orphanage had to, they tried to encourage us to get adopted by wealthy families or learn trades to get decent jobs when we were old enough to leave." Lyndon explained.

"I should have guessed, you don't speak like a thief, you sound educated. At least you learned _something_. Though apparently not enough to get an _honest_ profession." Jack replied, bemused.

"I'll take that as a compliment I suppose, and _hardly_. I was so poor I couldn't afford to _pay_ attention!” He joked, “Ahaha! But really, I learned more after I left." he added darkly.

"Not everyone can read and write, you should be proud to know how." Jack said.

Lyndon snorted and stayed quiet.

Time stretched on, the thief thought about taking a nap, there was a gentle breeze rolling in from the spaces open to the outside air and it was quite comfortable. Jack had picked an excellent study spot, if that _was_ what he was doing. Lyndon spied a stack of parchment sheets, fluttering slightly in the air. He grabbed one and folded it carefully into a paper bird. Pleased, he threw it up in the air and caught it as it spiraled back to him. Jack didn't seem to have noticed.

Getting an amusing idea, he experimentally threw the bird at Jack's head, hoping to nail him right in the forehead, but it sailed behind him, carried by the wind. The hunter still didn't appear to notice. Excited, Lyndon folded more birds and tried again and again, creating a small pile of paper birds on the floor behind the hunter's chair.

He aimed carefully and waited for the wind to stop, threw once more and hit the Demon Hunter in the cheek. Jack rounded on him quickly, eyes furious.

"Stop that! What are you, six years old?!" He snapped.

"Gods, for someone who hunts demons you're the most _boring_ person I've ever met, and having become acquainted with _Kormac,_ that's saying something!" Lyndon shot back, annoyed by Jack's perpetually lousy attitude.

"Find something to do that doesn't bother me!" Jack hissed irritably.

" _Fine_ then." Lyndon snapped.

“Fine.” Jack answered.

It was quiet for about five minutes before Lyndon cracked, desperate to stave off boredom.

“What are you writing?” He asked quietly, hoping that Jack wouldn't get upset.

“None of your business.” The hunter replied swiftly.

Lyndon sighed dramatically, and watched the cinnamon collect on the surface of his tea, beginning to feel a bit depressed.

“Isn't there... someone _else_ you could talk to?” Jack asked a bit wearily.

“No. No one likes me, _remember_?” Lyndon sneered sharply, then took a sip of his drink, feeling a bit upset. He noted that the Demon Hunter still hadn't touched the coffee he brought for him. Jack frowned and seemed to consider his statement.

“How about...that... _woman_ you were with?” Jack offered hesitantly.

“Ugh, no thanks. I've already “talked” to her enough.” The thief answered. They sat quietly again, the light changed as a cloud passed over the sun, then brightened again as the wind carried it along. Lyndon could hear parrots chirping to each other in the palm trees below.

“You know, I bought that for you because I thought you'd like it, I'm not trying to bloody _poison_ you.” Lyndon muttered, feeling a little hurt. Jack sighed and took a sip of it, then paused and took a second, then a third.

“I... _do_ like it. Thank you.” Jack said, almost not believing it. Lyndon smiled, watching him polish the beverage off rather quickly, then staring at the empty cup wistfully afterward.

“It wouldn't be that hard for you to get their attention if you wanted it. Have you seen how they look at you?” Lyndon said to Jack suddenly.

“What? Who?” Jack asked.

“Women.” Lyndon said evenly, wondering what _else_ he had thought he could have meant.

“What do you mean?” The hunter inquired sharply, he almost sounded _offended_ , what was wrong with him?

“ _Well_...” Lyndon began slyly, feeling a smile spread over his face. “They get short of breath, get pink in the cheeks, and flutter their eyelashes ever so _innocently,_ but you know they're just _dripping_ between their-”

“ _Lyndon_.” The hunter hissed warningly, cutting him off. “ _Contain yourself_.” Jack finished, enunciating every word.

Lyndon laughed, grinning from ear to ear.

“Well, _you_ know.” He continued casually, “You've done it before.”

“Done what before?” Jack asked distractedly, scribbling in his journal, was he drawing or something? That or he had the most erratic handwriting in history.

Lyndon blinked, slightly confused.“...You know.”

“What?” Jack asked irritably, looking at him now.

“...Are you _serious_?” The thief said to him in disbelief.

The hunter continued to stare at him blankly and Lyndon rolled his eyes and gave him a 'why-are-you-so-thick' look.

“ _Sex_? Do I have to bloody spell it out for you?” He exclaimed.

Jack merely grimaced and looked away. Lyndon felt the pieces suddenly click together.

“Oh Gods, you're a _virgin_ aren't you?” He said, giggling behind his hand.

“Don't talk to me.” Jack muttered, and Lyndon laughed, he could see the tips of the hunter's ears turning pink with embarrassment.

“Look it's not so bad.” Lyndon said, between laughs, “We can go out _right now_ and get that little problem taken care of in less than five minutes, there's a horde of them milling about downstairs and-”

“You're a filthy _pig_.” Jack hissed at him angrily.

“Come now Jacky, that's not a very friendly thing to say.” Lyndon said, trying to keep from laughing.

“Don't call me that!” The hunter snapped.

Lyndon's peals of laughter were stopped cold when a thin scream reached them from down the spiral staircase.

They looked at each other, was that _Leah's_ voice?

Jack and Lyndon scrambled to their feet and raced down the stairs, the hunter didn't have his crossbows with him, but was already drawing a concealed blade and Lyndon did the same, ready for _anything_.

But when they got to the room there was no threat to be dealt with. Tyrael had already embraced Leah, who was trembling in his arms, saying something. She'd had another vision, Lyndon guessed. They came in and knelt next to her, trying to hear what she was muttering.

“Speak to me child!” The archangel said worriedly.

“ _Arreat_... the demon's attack will come from Arreat.” She whispered.

Lyndon sighed a bit. To the frozen north they would go then.

 

 


	9. Follower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Act 1 again, and more of Lyndon being a child, a clever child, but a child nonetheless.

_“We’re a different sort of thief here, Lamora. Deception and misdirection are our tools. We don’t believe in hard work when a false face and a good line of bullshit can do so much more.”_  
― Scott Lynch, _The Lies of Locke Lamora_

 

The first thing out of Lyndon's mouth since he had so rudely invited himself into their group had been a complaint:

“I don't care for these woods, must we slog through them?” He whined.

“You're welcome to go back to Sasha, I'm sure she already misses you.” Jack had offered. Fervently hoping he would take the hint and leave.

“Oh, uhm. No thank you.” He scowled distastefully and followed them into the muddy, dark woods with a frown. Jack had been irritated, couldn't believe that he had the nerve to complain after they had just saved his wretched life from Thieves Guild assassins. He hadn't even thanked them either, not that Jack demanded thanks from every person he rescued, but it was still rude. He assumed the man would be little more than an annoyance that he would have to babysit until they parted ways in town, but Lyndon had proved that he was more than just talk. Though he did do an awful lot of talking.

Mostly to Leah, and mostly _flirting_ , which neither Jack, Kormac, nor Leah approved of in the slightest.

He had held his own and displayed decent skill with the crossbow and knife he carried. Jack found it odd that he seemed strangely unafraid of the ghouls and skeletons they encountered, though they _had_ found him on the edge of the goatmen infested Fields of Misery. It was a relief to not have to watch him like he might a stumbling toddler, at least not watch him _as_ closely.

“I saw you take that.” Jack said quickly when he saw the thief skim his hand over Leah's fingers with lightning quickness. When his hand had moved away, the ring on her index finger had been missing. 

“What are you talking about?” Lyndon had asked innocently, he had looked surprised as well, as if he never expected to be caught, and indeed Jack could have just as easily not seen him take it and they would have been none the wiser. Leah and Kormac had merely looked between them curiously, having no idea at all.

So, he was a talented pickpocket as _well_ as a liar. Interesting.

“Give it back to her _now_.” The Demon Hunter had growled dangerously, threatening violence.

He gave up quickly, as if he'd never really cared all that much one way or the other. “Fine. Here Leah, your ring.” And he deposited it carefully into her open palm. She was stunned.

“How did you...?” She began in disbelief and he had smiled at her as charmingly as he was able to manage.

“The Order would never forgive me for falling in with a thief.” Kormac grumbled.

“The _Order_ hmm? Is that why you're so stuck up? I bet they don't forgive a lot of things, and anyway, no one said that you had to like me.” Lyndon responded quickly, with a touch of humor.

“Oh I wouldn't worry about _that_.” Kormac answered haughtily, and the thief's eyes had flashed a bit dangerously, or rather... mischievously. Perhaps it was Kormac who should be more careful about his own possessions in the thief's presence rather than Leah.

It had been a long trek through the Festering Woods, and then there was another run in with the awful witch Maghda and her useless cultists. Child's play really, the Demon Hunter didn't see them as much more than a distraction from his real task. Even the ancient skeletal guardians they woke in the Drowned Temple had been little trouble for him, the hard part had been getting the shimmering blue artifacts from the old crypts and keeping them out of Lyndon's sticky fingers. The rest had been well.. had been almost an afternoon _stroll_ really.

“Do you think you're a... a Nephalem? Like what Alaric said?” Leah had whispered to him whilst Kormac and Lyndon bickered over a half destroyed book with faded gold inlay on the cover.

“No. Personally, I think the long years of watching the temple have been a little hard on his _wits_ if you get my meaning.” Jack had said to her, and she had giggled merrily. He had smiled a little at that.

“Still, there seems to be something special about you.” Leah continued when she had stopped laughing.

“I don't have any fantastic powers. I trained to get where I am. You're the special one.” He teased her.

“Maybe _I'm_ the Nephalem then?” She said with fake pride. And Jack smiled at her jest, “Perhaps.” He said, then went to break up Kormac and Lyndon's squabble. (He had promised books to Kormac after all.)

And now they had another piece of the sword to show Deckard Cain and that strange man whom he had found in the crater of the falling star. But even still, they had a long hike back to New Tristram that would likely take them until well after sunset. And now that everything was _dead_... there was only conversation left for them, which Jack tried to avoid at all costs.

"Now, what was all _that_ back there?” Lyndon asked. “Who was that woman... With the _bug_ things? Why did she want that bit of broken blade? Furthermore, why do _you_ lot want it? Is it _valuable_?" The thief asked all at once, for all his chatter he had somehow avoided asking all the important questions that most individuals would have asked first, rather than later.

“I came to New Tristram to investigate the falling star and the subsequent rising dead, but what I found instead was the Skeleton King. And at the center of the crater was a man who had no memory of what had happened to him.” Jack explained patiently.

“My Uncle.” Leah cut in, “Deckard Cain, believes that the sword made whole and returned to the stranger will restore his memory. He believes this man has something important to tell us about the prophecy of the 'End Days.'” She finished.

“ _I've_ heard of the prophecy before.” Lyndon stated proudly. “Do _you_ believe your uncle?” He asked her curiously, and she frowned.

“I believe there are demons, but I don't believe in the prophecy, no.” She finally said.

“Ah, so you're _smart_ as well as pretty.” Lyndon added wryly with a cheeky wink. Leah sighed and rolled her eyes.

“We know the sword is important, because that demon woman Maghda wants it as well.” Kormac spat.

"So what fell from the sky was a _man_ then?" Lyndon repeated, intrigued. "But why are the dead-" he paused, nearly tripping over a tree root in his rush to keep up with the Demon Hunter's quick pace. "Why are the dead rising if it was only a man?"

"We don't know yet." Jack answered flatly.

"A man who fell from the Heavens, rising dead, the Mad King, and a _prophecy_. Very _interesting_..." The thief said and was blessedly quiet for a few minutes.

“So, you're here because of the falling star and fetching sword pieces.” Lyndon said pointing at the Demon Hunter, “And _you're_ here because of your uncle, the star and the prophecy.” He continued, gesturing to Leah.

“But why are you here, _Templar_?” Lyndon asked Kormac, who scowled at him.

“You know I am a Templar?” Kormac asked, confused, “I had not _said_ -”

“Oh _please_. Do you take me for an idiot? You mentioned 'The Order' and I can practically _smell_ the morals on you. You couldn't be more obvious if you dressed in priest's garb.” Lyndon answered lazily.

“By the light, I swore an _oath_ you wretch, that's why I'm here.” Kormac snapped. Jack sighed a little to himself, and he and Leah exchanged glances, hoping they weren't going to see the start of _another_ fight.

“Surely, our tall, dark friend would have assisted you _without_ such an oath.” Lyndon said to him in all seriousness.

“Not to _Jack_ , to my Order, I mean to recover the lost tomes.” Kormac answered with pride.

“Is that why you fought me so fiercely over that worthless brick of paper?” Lyndon asked, “What's in them then, naughty illustrations perhaps?” He teased.

“ _You_ were the one who wanted it so badly! And _no_! They were stolen by archbishop Lazarus and contain the pieces of the prophecy of the end times. Without them we are lost.” Kormac explained. Jack likened that Kormac shouldn't have even bothered, it was obvious Lyndon hardly cared. He was only amusing himself with Kormac's anger.

“But these books have been gone for... what? Twenty years now?” He asked, looking back at Leah and Jack for confirmation, “And yet you still survive.”

“And we will survive a thousand more if we must, but the tomes will return to us!” Kormac bellowed vehemently, causing Lyndon to wince just slightly, then a devilish smile spread over his face.

“Do you always do what your “glorious” order tells you?” The scoundrel asked sweetly.

“Of course! You have no honor and would not understand.” Kormac snapped angrily. “No honor among _thieves_!”

“Hmm. Must be _spectacularly_ naughty then!” Lyndon exclaimed, then started laughing.

“Your heresy is intolerable!” Kormac shouted, stamping his foot on the ground like an angry child, Lyndon only laughed harder, nearly falling over another rock in the ground.

Jack just stared at him as they walked, almost welcoming the heavy rain that began to fall, drowning out the thief's annoying laugh.

=+=+=+=+=+=

The rain did not let up, and it had darkened out considerably. They were still some distance away from the closest, working waypoint in the 'Cemetery of the Forsaken' before the Weeping Hollow. Jack hoped that by the time his work was done here, they could change some of the names of these awful places to sound a little less foreboding.

“I'm _cold_.” The thief complained, as he had every few minutes for the last hour or so. Jack finally looked at him, noting that the thin tunic he was wearing was woefully inappropriate for the weather and was soaked through, sticking to his skin, at least Leah had a cloak with a hood of her own to keep her warm and dry. The thief's boots had obviously seen better days and the pants he wore were soaked and covered in mud, probably from being manhandled by the thieves that had initially tied him up.

“Perhaps you should have dressed better.” Jack said irritably, beyond tired of his whining.

“Not _everyone_ can shit _gold_ and afford custom tailored leather armor with silver fastenings.” Lyndon snapped angrily, holding the strap that held his crossbow to his back with both hands so that his arms were hugged close to his chest. The scoundrel was shivering a little and looked distinctly miserable. Jack sighed, he would not have the man get ill, no matter how frustrating he was.

The Demon Hunter considered himself responsible for every person who followed him, no matter how briefly he hoped it might be.

He pulled the cloak from his own shoulders, he'd be fine enough without it for a while.

"Here. Until you can purchase something better in town." Jack said to him, handing him the heavy fabric.

"Thank you." Lyndon said, sounding grateful for once, he took it and wrapped it tightly around himself and pulled the hood up. "Is black your _favorite_ color?" He asked with a smile. Jack did not reply but Lyndon continued talking anyway.

Gods, he was _full_ of questions. Which was preferable? _This_ or the complaining? The hunter could not be sure.

"Do you think you'll keep finding more gold like this?" Lyndon asked hopefully. They had found a good amount in the tombs of Alaric's people and in the drowned temple. They had split the earnings with the thief since he had been a good help despite everything, which absolutely delighted the man.

"I suppose it's likely." Jack answered. It wasn't something he thought about beyond keeping himself fed and affording some caravan travel, not to mention having enough to pay a blacksmith for any repairs to his gear.

"Can I help? I mean... you look like you could benefit from a _talented_ individual such as myself and I am currently _between_ jobs at the moment and available for hire-" Lyndon boasted.

"Help? From a thieving braggart?" Kormac stated angrily.

"Well, I do like to boast..." Lyndon muttered with a smile.

"Don't forget loud." Jack added.

Kormac smiled, "Ah yes, how could I forget?"

"And a filthy womanizer." Leah continued.

"Hey now! This is three against one!" Lyndon complained. "What happened to your _honor_ Templar?"

“There is no honor among thieves!” Kormac reminded him sharply.

Jack cut in quickly to avoid another tiresome argument. "You are a skilled arbalist and your help would be appreciated. You say you wish to join me? I have rules, and thievery will _not_ be tolerated." Jack said sternly, he hadn't even given it much thought, but Lyndon seemed an alright enough sort, and he had helped them out quite well in the woods.

Perhaps this could work?

He ignored Kormac who was fervently mouthing the word 'no' over and over behind him.

"Alright..." Lyndon agreed hesitantly, but didn't sound particularly serious.

“As I will be compensating you for your services, when you deserve it, I expect you to follow my orders. I don't have the time or the patience to put up with laziness or insubordination.”

“Fine. I'll do _whatever_ you like so long as you pay me.” Lyndon said with a teasing smile.

"Good, if there is no more to do tonight we will leave at dawn again tomorrow. I expect you to be ready." Jack extended his hand toward him to shake.

The thief hesitated, then shook it. Kormac groaned and muttered “Oh _gods_.”

"I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship." Lyndon said brightly. "What with my talents and your fighting prowess, well be rich as kings in time for the Harvest!" He continued amiably.

"You're always talking aren't you?" Jack muttered, tired and a bit hungry, eager to get back to town and move on to the next thing.

"Its one of my _better_ qualities." Lyndon replied slyly.

"I'd hate to see your poor ones." Leah said, annoyed.

"We could become _better_ than friends Leah." He said, attempting to wind an arm around her waist.

"Don't. Touch. Me." Leah responded angrily, and Lyndon backed off quickly, holding his hands up in surrender.

“You're not very _good_ at flirting are you?” Lyndon replied, sounding a bit put off.

"New rule. Keep your hands to _yourself_." Jack spat angrily.

"Tyrant." Lyndon hissed, but he grinned crookedly at him afterward.

Jack hoped he wouldn't regret this.

 

 


	10. Pomegranate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A break from working on my other fic 'Black Country', more Act II.

“ _We are sun and moon, dear friend; we are sea and land. It is not our purpose to become each other; it is to recognize each other, to learn to see the other and honor him for what he is: each the other's opposite and complement.”_  
― Hermann Hesse, _Narcissus and Goldmund_

 

Two hours after sundown, the Demon Hunter observed Lyndon sauntering back into the hidden camp. He had been gone since late afternoon, and he looked quite pleased with himself. Jack had no questions as to how the man had spent his free time. Women. Drink. Theft. Whatever else. Lyndon was careless, irresponsible, greedy, perverted and sometimes Jack wondered why he tolerated the man at _all_. And yet.... how was it that Lyndon's smile came so easily when his own almost never shown on his face? Lyndon did not have an easy life, but his life view was more optimistic than most.

It was... puzzling.

The scoundrel came up behind their new companion Eirena, who was showing Leah and Kala some examples of her magical skill. "Good _evening_ ladies, oh! Are you doing magic? I can do magic too!" Lyndon said confidently, and, quicker than blinking, he moved his hand to Leah's ear and snapped his fingers. She jumped and glared at him, but an apple had appeared in his hand, seemingly taken from thin air.

"No wonder you ignore all my compliments, you couldn't hear them with _this_ stuffed in your ear!" He teased, and placed it into her open palm.

Leah giggled despite herself, “How did you do that?” She asked, interested. Lyndon grinned crookedly at her.

“ _Magic_.” He said cryptically, then repeated the trick with Eirena, who smiled and thanked him, and Kala, who accepted the fruit from him hesitantly with a nervous glance.

"That is not _magic_ Lyndon, that is merely slight of hand." Eirena corrected him, before taking a bite of her apple.

"Oh I know, I'm _very_ good with my hands." He leered. Causing Leah to slap him on the arm in irritation, "Ow! You're not very _friendly_!” He shouted with fake hurt but, ever persistent, a smile crept back onto his face.

Jack almost smiled, Lyndon was utterly ridiculous. The hunter was confused by how carefree he seemed to be most of the time, how uncaring he was of the danger around them. He was relentless in his antics to get girls to like him. How could he smile and engage in so much nonsense in the face of all that lay in wait for them? Jack was not used to someone who acted like that. That kind of lackadaisical behavior was completely foreign to him. The only one who had ever smiled on a regular basis in the Demon Hunter settlement in the Dreadlands, had been his mentor Josen. Everyone else was just about as grim as he was.

 _Worse_ even...

“How about this then?” Lyndon said, rudely seating himself in between Leah and Eirena and pulling out a deck of cards. Jack watching him attentively to curb any inappropriate behavior, should it occur, Kormac was also watching the little scene from the Demon Hunter's side with a very sour look on his face.

“Now, dearest Leah.” The thief began and smoothly fanned the deck of cards out in his hands. “Pick a card, _any_ card!” he said with a mischievous smile. Leah looked at him suspiciously, smiling just slightly, before dubiously selecting a card at random from the fan he held out to her. “Ah, the eight of hearts.” Leah showed the card to Eirena and Kala then handed the card back to Lyndon.

“Alright, well, I can't _always_ get this particular magic to work for me, but when it _does_ work it's quite spectacular. I can make any card I choose move through the deck.” Lyndon explained confidently. “Leah, I'll put your card, the eight of hearts, back into the deck here, anywhere really, it doesn't matter. ” He explained as he separated the deck into two stacks and flipped them over so only the decorative card backs could be seen. He pushed the edge of Leah's card into one of the stacks. “Now gather round girls and watch closely, this is _very_ interesting, Leah could you just push your card all the way into the deck for me?” They leaned in as she did so and he moved his other hand, holding the other half of the deck out of the way to allow Leah to push the card inside the half of the deck he held out to her.

While the girls were focused on his hand that held the deck supposedly holding Leah's card, Lyndon did a very curious thing: He removed the bottom card from the other deck, licked the back of it, and quickly stuck it to his forehead. Jack could see clearly that it was the eight of hearts and fought back a smile. The girl's were so focused on the other half of the deck that they didn't notice at all.

“Alright, I'll shuffle the deck and I should be able to get your card to rise to the top.” Lyndon explained.

Card still stuck on his forehead, Lyndon joined the two stacks and shuffled them expertly. “Alright, keep your eyes on the deck, this really _should_ work the first time.” He tapped the top of the deck three times, then turned the card over. “Two of spades, _damn_ it all, that's not it.” He muttered, while Leah, Eirena and Kala, watched him shuffle the deck and keep trying. “Hang on, I'll get it, just keep watching.” He said with fake frustration.

“I think our thief has missed his calling as a stage actor.” Kormac muttered sternly to Jack.

“Hmm.” The hunter answered in agreement, and continued to watch.

Leah sighed, “You're not very _good_ at this are y-” she began, then looked up and saw her card stuck to his forehead and started to laugh, covering her mouth with her hand, unable to help herself. The other girls looked up and also began to laugh. Lyndon smiled at them and took the card off his head and returned it to the deck. “Most impressive!” Eirena said, giggling. The girls clapped for him while he bowed extravagantly.

Kormac always flushed angrily whenever Lyndon spoke to Eirena with an easy confidence that the Templar would likely never posses for those of the opposite gender, and watching Eirena compliment the scoundrel caused his face to twist into a scowl. Sometimes Jack thought Kormac really needed to learn to pick his battles and not get so riled up by Lyndon's teasing.

Not that Jack was much better, Lyndon angered him on a daily basis and he frequently lost his temper in the thief's presence. Jack was aware that he did poorly in social settings as well, and whenever he had time alone to himself, he could only think about what he needed to do next and how he would accomplish it, desiring only to stay one step ahead of the enemy.

Lyndon had gone off by himself behind one of the parked caravans. He honestly looked a little suspicious to the Demon Hunter, perhaps he had stolen something from one of the girls? It wouldn't be the _first_ time he'd stolen from someone in their group. The man had some bad habits and Jack would not tolerate them amongst their companions. The hunter moved from his spot by the fire and followed the scoundrel, silent as a shadow.

"What are you doing?" Jack asked him and Lyndon jumped and clutched at his chest.

"Gods, don't keep _doing_ that! We need to get you a bell or something before my heart gives out." The man panted, holding something large and red in his hand.

"Why did you go back here alone? Did you _steal_ something again?" Jack asked impatiently, indicating the round object.

"Well I never, you don't seem to _trust_ me very much, and after all we've been through together!" Lyndon retorted. "I wasn't doing _anything_ . I bought this. Just because I steal _often_ doesn't mean I steal _everything_." Lyndon said in mild irritation, holding out the orb.

Jack stared at the thing. It was made from an organic material of some kind ...an egg? Or some kind of painted, carved ornament perhaps?

"...What is it?" Jack asked cautiously.

"You've never seen one?! It’s a pomegranate... they're my _favorite_ fruit!" Lyndon exclaimed excitedly.

"No." The hunter answered flatly. He'd never even been across the sea before, let alone seen unusual, imported fruit.

"I've only ever managed to find them in Caldeum or Lut Gholein, warmer places, they're rare, and as with most of the things I like... _expensive_." Lyndon explained with a grin.

"Just a fruit? Why did you sneak off then?" Jack demanded.

"I wasn't interested in _sharing_." Lyndon replied simply.

Jack raised an eyebrow, eying the strange red fruit with deep suspicion.

Lyndon rolled his eyes, "Here I'll show you." He drawled, and pulled out a short dagger, "I cut off both ends-" he said and then did so while Jack watched attentively, "-and then I score the sides-" he explained, "Then snap it apart." He finished, cracking the fruit in half, "Voila!" Lyndon exclaimed, handing Jack one half to inspect.

At first the Demon hunter wasn't quite sure what he was looking at, it looked like the inside of the round fruit was filled with deep red rubies that shimmered in the reflected light of the campfire and for a moment, he thought Lyndon might have been making a fool of him and that this bizarre thing really was just an eccentric, ornate possession a cast out noble had stubbornly clung to, that the scoundrel had stolen earlier that night.

But then he smelled the sweet fragrance and saw red liquid dripping from the inside. It _was_ a fruit.

It was _beautiful_.

"Strange right?" Lyndon said, before removing some of the tiny red gems and popping them into his mouth, "But _so_ good." he finished with a pleased sigh. Strange indeed. The beads of fruit were held by a white, organic material that reminded him of honeycomb, he'd really never seen anything like it. Jack figured he should hand it back, it wasn't his to keep, but Lyndon said "Aren't you even _a_ _little_ bit curious? Go on, try it." He offered amiably.

"Alright." Jack said quietly, unsure of why he was suddenly nervous. Everything about this felt too comfortable, like something he was not supposed to be a part of. _Friendship_. Something he didn't think about much, it was hard for him to imagine that someone would want to associate with him for longer than strictly necessary. He didn't think of himself as very pleasant company, or someone people might want to share things with.

He unsnapped a few beads from the white honeycomb material they rested in with fumbling, unsure fingers and tasted one hesitantly. The bead popped on his teeth and flooded his mouth with the taste. It was sweet but a little tannic like wine. He was immediately pulled back into a memory from years and years ago. It reminded him of the cranberries that he and his sister would help his mother gather from the bogs. Their father would be harvesting peat moss to dry and burn as fuel in the winter months while they gathered the bog fruit. As a sawyer, wood was too valuable to his trade to burn. When they had picked enough, their mother would sweeten and cook the cranberries in water over the fire, or she'd bake them into various muffins and pastries. They tasted much like this. His sister was so _messy_ , she would get the juice all over her face and her dress, laughing when she ate it with her hands, the stains took forever to wash out and he would spend hours just-

The memory surprised him with how vivid it was, and how easily it had come, though he had spent _years_ carefully locking away that part of himself. The emotions it brought were sudden and sharp and made his throat tighten and his chest ache. He thought Lyndon might even be able to hear the pounding of his heart.

"You like it? You can have some more if you want." Lyndon offered, seemingly oblivious to the change that had come over the Demon Hunter.

It took longer than he thought it would to bury the memory away someplace deep within him. Deep enough so it wouldn't _hurt_ anymore. Jack swallowed before speaking, afraid his voice might crack.

"I thought you weren't interested in sharing." He managed to reply.

"I'll make an exception for you." Lyndon said with a wink a wolfish grin.

“Why do you _smile_ so much?” Jack asked suddenly before he could stop himself. The thief stared at him, expression unreadable.

“If you have nice _teeth_ , show them off, I always say.” Lyndon responded cheerfully.

“That's not a real answer.” The hunter shot back.

“And what would _you_ consider to be a real answer then?” Lyndon asked slyly. “It takes more muscles to _frown_ than to smile. Did you know that? I usually prefer to take the path of least resistance.” He added, throwing some of the pomegranate rind away as he worked more beads of fruit out.

Jack scoffed and rolled his eyes at him.

He decided that the fruit suited the thief, it was sweet but also pulled moisture from your mouth with its tartness, causing you to make a face. It was rare and expensive and looked like the treasure the greedy man couldn't get enough of. A seductive red color on the outside with a slight sheen to catch the eye. The tartness had a red juice, that stained and ran like blood, like all the things that Lyndon didn't want to talk about. Within each juice filled ruby was a pure white seed, like the good person that _had_ to be there, hidden away from everyone.

He berated himself for being overly poetic. Perhaps he and Kala could write poetry together. How _ridiculous_.

“Anyway. There's no point in being unhappy all the time just because something _bad_ happened to you or something didn't _work out_ the way you wanted.” Lyndon continued. “Then you'll miss out on the _finer_ things in life!” He lectured happily.

“Like women and gold, correct?” Jack answered dryly.

“Ah, _now_ you're getting it! Maybe you can try smiling next, hm?” Lyndon said laughing.

Jack sighed. Yes, the fruit suited him very well.

“Do you like it?” Lyndon asked a second time after he reigned in his amusement.

"Yes... yes I like it, thank you Lyndon, I'm sorry I... misjudged you." Jack said softly.

"No harm done my friend." Lyndon said smiling.

_Friend._

Jack moved to hand the rest of the pomegranate back, fingers a little numb.

"No, you can have it." The thief said quickly.

"B-but-" Jack began, confused.

Lyndon laughed at his hesitation, and the Demon Hunter glared at him."Don't be _shy_ , go on, eat it, take it as payment for saving me earlier from that dune thresher, the bloody thing would've eaten my damned foot off!" The scoundrel exclaimed, chuckling to himself, he sat down contentedly on a barrel and continued eating.

"Thank you." Jack said quietly.

He left abruptly and returned to his place in the shadows near the fire, eating the pomegranate half slowly, savoring each piece.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love pomegranates, I buy about a thousand of them from mid October through mid January (when they are in season.) A dark depression hits me when I can no longer find any more good ones.
> 
> Some interesting things about the pomegranate: Some say that the fruit of temptation that caused Adam and Eve to be expelled from the Garden of Eden was not an apple, but a pomegranate. (The apple as we know it today would not have existed at the dawn of creation, depending on your beliefs of course.)
> 
> Having many seeds, the pomegranate is also considered a symbol of fertility and eternal life. Ancient Egyptians were often buried with pomegranates in the hope that it might hasten their re-birth.
> 
> Wikipedia says: "The myth of Persephone, the goddess of the Underworld, also prominently features the pomegranate. In one version of Greek mythology, Persephone was kidnapped by Hades and taken off to live in the underworld as his wife. Her mother, Demeter (goddess of the Harvest), went into mourning for her lost daughter and thus all green things ceased to grow. Zeus, the highest ranking of the Greek gods, could not allow the Earth to die, so he commanded Hades to return Persephone. It was the rule of the Fates that anyone who consumed food or drink in the Underworld was doomed to spend eternity there. Persephone had no food, but Hades tricked her into eating six pomegranate seeds while she was still his prisoner and so, because of this, she was condemned to spend six months in the Underworld every year. During these six months, when Persephone is sitting on the throne of the Underworld next to her husband Hades, her mother Demeter mourns and no longer gives fertility to the earth. This became an ancient Greek explanation for the seasons."


	11. Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally got to Act III!
> 
> Warning: For gross things I guess.

_“The wolf was sick, he vowed a monk to be - But when he got well, a wolf once more was he.”_   
― Walter Bower

 

The ceiling above them rained grit and dust as another reverberation from the battle warring outside boomed through the Keep Depths. Lyndon released a breath, a puff of mist in front of his face, as he loaded another arrow into his crossbow, then loosed it into the throat of a demon trooper.

“Oh, these damned demons _would_ start digging their way in wouldn't they?!” He shouted to the Demon Hunter who was throwing grenade after grenade into a room full of the wretched things.

“ _Pay attention!_ ” Jack snapped back at him. He had been awfully short tempered (more so than usual at least) since he started drinking those health potions, Lyndon mused. And they made him jumpy as all Hell to boot.

Lyndon sighed. Irritable sod. “Well, I guess I _can_ kill more of them...” He answered with a resigned sigh.

And even still, Jack paused in his merry slaughter to drink _another_ bloody potion, then lobbed the empty vial at a charging demon's head before following it up with a bolt through the brains.

“You know, I don't think you're meant to drink so many of those damned things. It can't be good for you.” The scoundrel commented seriously.

“Just worry about _yourself_ like you always do!” The Demon Hunter grit out, sending torrents of arrows screaming down the twisting hallway.

“Well excuse _me_ for trying to help!” Lyndon shouted back angrily.

 _Make yourself sick then. See if I care you insufferable twat!_ He thought furiously.

They were trying to stem the flood of demons that were pouring into the depths, but had not yet found where they were coming from. The air was so cold down here that his hands were stiff and slow to work as he needed them to.

Jack didn't seem to be having any trouble at all, and fired non-stop at everything that came at them. There were demon raiders around every corner, down every blasted corridor. Demonic tremors bursting through walls trying to trample them, and groups of skeletons rained from the ceiling. It was utter madness, and again, the thief was finding himself wondering, just what in Akarat's name was he even _doing_ here? This was beyond him.

He didn't belong in such a mad place. Thieves had no part in saving the world.

The best he could manage was covering the Demon Hunter's back as best he could while Eirena and Kormac were catching up with them. Lyndon tried to hang back and keep out of the hunter's warpath in the meantime.

Oh great! _Another_ one of those skeleton bastards was here now and he had some kind of magic to go along with his personal demon raider army! With a grinding rasp, the skeleton raised it's bony hand and yanked the Demon Hunter towards itself with some kind of arcane vortex.

Jack yelped and his feet skidded over the stone floor. He managed to stop himself from being impaled on the monster's spear with a quick tumble out of the way, then a well placed slice from his unsheathed blade neatly removed the pointy end of the vicious looking weapon, and then the undead bastard's arm along with it.

The room was full of demons and Lyndon backed up more and more, trying to pick them off as best as he could. He was so busy watching what the Demon Hunter was doing that he wasn't paying attention to what was behind him. Snarling suddenly loud behind him, and hot, rancid breath on his neck told him that he had made a decidedly stupid mistake.

Something cracked hard against the back of his skull, and he knew no more.

 

=+=+=+=+=+=

 

When Lyndon woke, he immediately wished he hadn't.

His head was positively _killing_ him, worse than the splitting headache after a tavern crawl, or even a three day bender. He refused to move his eyelids, his head hurt too much to consider looking at _anything_. Confused and disoriented, he felt as though he had woken after a long sleep. He suddenly remembered the fight. What had happened? It was quiet now, were they all dead? What had happened to Jack? Was he alright? Lyndon tried to move, he couldn't orient his body's position as to be able to tell if he was horizontal or not. Pain intensified at the attempt, then his guts churned horribly and he groaned.

"Don't move, you've taken quite a blow to the head." Jack's voice, low and soft.

Well. That explained the throbbing pain in his skull and the tempest in his stomach.

"Oh good." He mumbled weakly with as much sarcasm as he could muster. Talking hurt his head. This earned a noise from the hunter which could have been a sigh of relief. He liked to think it was at least, it'd be nice if someone cared whether it not he was alright.

"How do you feel?" Jack asked hesitantly.

"Bad. Hurts." He ground out quickly. Thinking hurt. Talking hurt. Bloody _everything_ hurt, and the sudden nausea was not helping matters in the slightest.

"I know." Jack responded gently.

_Then why'd you bloody ask then?_

Lyndon chanced cracking open his eyes and his vision swam. _Wherever_ they were was blessedly dim, the only source of light he noticed was a torch burning low on the wall. At least he was now able to get his bearings a little better, he figured out that he was lying down at least, but he felt disconnected, spread out over the floor like a spilled mug of ale instead of contained in a (very attractive) body. Full awareness of himself and his surroundings came in pieces. He was lying on his side and his head was resting on something warm and comfortable. There was steady pressure on the back of his head. It hurt, but he didn't have the will to complain. Something covered him like a blanket. It was warm and he was grateful for it.

"Where... are the monsters?" He asked sluggishly. Struggling to string words together and formulate thoughts. This must be what Kormac felt like everyday. The urge to laugh made his stomach churn.

"Dead. In the other room." Jack explained carefully, speaking slowly and clearly. Gods, there had been so many... And in such a narrow space, had Jack really done that without his help? He wished he could have seen that.

"You're... not hurt?" It was hard to believe he had emerged from that without a single injury to how for it. It was only _Lyndon_ who had botched things up. Typical.

"No... No I'm alright." Jack seemed confused by the question, but Lyndon had not the brain power to think too deeply about it.

There was a shiny trail of fresh blood on the floor, leading in from the closed door, it pooled heavy in places. Had he been _carried_ in here? How far had they gone?

Was... was that  _ his _ blood?

The scoundrel became aware that his head and hair was sticky with it, he could smell the copper odor. There was only a moment when he briefly lamented how dirty his hair was now before he felt panicked by the sheer volume of blood on the floor, then too sick to care about any of it.

He must have said something or made a noise, because the Demon Hunter was speaking again. "I don't think it's as bad as it looks, head injuries tend to bleed a lot." Jack said in an attempt to reassure him, but he sounded a little unsure.

"Uh huh." Lyndon muttered, not really listening, squeezing his eyes shut against the rolling of his gut, he started to breathe through his mouth. He desperately tried not to think about the blood sticking his hair together, coagulating on his skin, or the demon-fly maggot picked corpses of poor soldiers rotting in almost every room in the depths of the keep. Or the ribcage of a demonic tremor practically bursting from it's chest cavity from Jack's explosive killing blow, hemorrhaging a foul, sickly green ichor.

He even tried not to think about the water-bloated corpses drifting gently in the current of Caldeum's filthy sewers, bursting open at a touch, housing flies or _worse_.

Gods, even Leoric's Halls of Agony. The sharp tang of old blood and death poisoning the air like a thick smoke in his memory. Shambling undead, clumsy with their hanging flesh, then run through a human meat grinder, old, fermented, black blood spraying.

_ Akarat's mercy.  _ He thought he'd finally managed to forget about that one.

He swallowed and marveled at the conundrum that when one was trying desperately to  _ not _ be sick, all one could think about were the must disgusting, vile, appetite ruining things they'd ever seen.

"Do you feel sick?" Jack asked him hesitantly.

" _ Yes _ ." He practically whimpered, you're damned  _ right _ he felt sick.

Jack helped him sit up carefully and he sat very still for a moment, head pounding,  _ unbelievably _ dizzy. He broke out in a cold, clammy sweat, swallowing air. A familiar black cloak fell from his shoulders, he fervently hoped he wouldn't be sick on it. The Demon Hunter still held something to his head, some fabric of some kind, still soaking up all that  _ blood _ . He swallowed and closed his eyes and flashed back to Kingsport slums.

Something he had seen. Children starving, near dead in a dark, gods-forsaken den. Too weak to slap away the flies that laid eggs on their skin in preparation for the feast of dead flesh that would undoubtedly be soon.

For a split second he felt decidedly _better_ , and wondered if he was alright after all, but then that pleasant thought was neatly removed from his head when he heaved his guts up all over the floor.

Lyndon had the presence of mind to wish that his head had been smashed off and crushed like an overripe tomato, and that he had just gone and died instead. It would have been preferable to _this_. He felt like he was ridding himself of everything he had ever eaten in his entire wretched life. Careful, ungloved fingers held blood slicked hair out of his face, and another hand rested on the back of his neck, holding gently. He tried to focus on that instead of acid burning his throat and his stomach threatening dry heaves.

Could anything be worse? He'd much prefer being face down in the gutter outside the grimiest Kingsport beer shack. He had the experience to back it up.

When he was done, panting, shivering, and trying to decided if he felt _worse_ than before, Jack pulled him back away from the mess and relaxed against a different wall in Lyndon's four cornered Hell. He was lying down again, head on the hunter's leg, the cloak, thankfully vomit free, back over him. The nausea was still there, but it was less urgent than before.

"How long?" Lyndon asked once he stopped shaking, voice raw.

"How long  _ have _ we been here or how long  _ will _ we be here?" Jack asked gently, applying fabric and more painful pressure to the back of his head again.

Lyndon waited for the information to process, not feeling much like his usual quick witted self. "Both." He said eventually.

"We have been in this room for over an hour at least, I am not precisely sure as to the exact passage of time because I cannot see the stars or the moon." Jack explained thoughtfully.

"You took a long time to wake. For a while, I feared the worst." Jack added. His tone sounded conversational, but the words made Lyndon feel almost guilty for having been hurt.

"Well I'm back. You can dry your _tears_." Lyndon replied with a weak smile. Jack laughed, rough, dark and smokey. Lyndon grinned a little, feeling better.

"Anyway, as to how  _ long _ we'll be here, we must wait for Kormac and Eirena to catch up with us. I sent them a distress call through the amulet. They have the device that opens the town portal... and you could benefit from Kormac's assistance."

"I can't _wait_." Lyndon replied, dreading Kormac's loud voice and frustrating lecturing.

"You couldn't have at _least_ found a room with a bed?" He whined.

"You can't always get what you want." Jack answered calmly. His mood seemed to have calmed somewhat during Lyndon's head injury induced nap.

"It could be another hour or longer yet, you should try to rest." Jack suggested.

"You just want me to shut up." Lyndon answered petulantly.

"I  _ do _ miss the quiet." The hunter said with a hint of wistfulness, but he was only teasing.

Desperately wanting to escape the pounding in his head, Lyndon closed his eyes again and allowed himself to doze. The warmth of the leg under his head and neck felt good, the cloak heavy, and _warm_ despite the cold floor. Gods, he was so _tired_ of being cold all the time.

Maybe he could dream of a white sanded beach and the calm, undulating ocean on a summer's day instead of this frozen Hell hole. Sea birds diving into the crystalline blue surface and emerging again with their beaks full of wriggling shiners, scales shining in the sun like polished silver.

He slept for a time, and woke more than once to the exact same scene: the fire burning in the torch casting heavy relief shadows on the wall, Jack's eyes closed as he sat very still. He looked tired, but Lyndon could not tell if he were truly sleeping or merely resting his eyes. The sick feeling had faded, but pain in his head still made it difficult to think.

Time passed this way, it could have been one hour or a thousand hours before he finally heard familiar voices and jumped when the storeroom door opened.

A feminine gasp. Eirena's voice.

"Gods alive." Kormac stated. "Is he... dead?" he directed at the Demon Hunter, voice weak.

"You. Wish." Lyndon grit out.

There were twin exhales of breath from the enchantress and Kormac, if Lyndon didn't _know_ better, he would think they actually cared about him.

"What did you do this time heretic?" Kormac asked, kneeling next to him and already frustrated.

"Ah, your pet names have been getting much more _affectionate_ as of late. Bit of a tap on the ol' noggin." Lyndon answered with a slight smile. The scoundrel made no move to sit up, he didn't want a repeat of earlier.

"More than a tap I'd say, you're lucky to be alive." The Templar said gruffly, examining him with large, clumsy hands that pressed a little too hard and moved a little too fast. Or maybe it was just Kormac's general _dislike_ of him that made him less careful.

"I was born lucky I suppose." Lyndon said, feeling slightly better. It was easy to fall into the familiar back and forth with Kormac.

"No, you just have _powerful_ friends." The Templar lectured with a frustrated huff.

"Don't _all_ lucky people?" The thief asked, wincing under Kormac's none-too-gentle touch.

"None so powerful as Jack." The larger man answered proudly.

“We followed a trail of demon corpses to find you, are you hurt Jack?” Eirena inquired gently. “Some bruises, but nothing serious.” The Demon Hunter answered, rolling his shoulders against the wall a bit to stretch them. “My leg is asleep.” Jack added. Had they really sat here for so long?

Kormac was healing him now, there was heat and light, and Gods, it bloody _hurt,_ but it was also immensely relieving. Eventually, the pain ebbed, then stopped and he was left with a tender spot on his skull, a minor headache and blood in his hair.

Much better, all things considered.

"Thank you." Lyndon said sitting up gingerly, allowing Jack to get to his feet and stretch his long legs.

"Reward me by being more careful next time so I won't waste precious energy on you." Kormac lectured, wiping a line a sweat from his brow.

"Your words _wound_ me." Lyndon said with fake hurt.

The Templar snorted. "Really, I'd have preferred your _death_. I'm very tired now." Kormac muttered irritably.

“And _I'd_ prefer it if it was _your_ thick head that was smashed in rather than mine, though I bet it would take one Hell of a blow to put a dent in _that_ fat thing, clearly-”

 

=+=+=+=+=+=

 

Jack sighed softly as he watched yet another argument unfold. He was glad that Lyndon had not _died_ but...

“I miss the quiet.” He said regretfully.

“As do I.” Eirena agreed tersely.

 


	12. Lut Gholein

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In-between Act I and II: Lut Gholein: In which we see a glimpse of Leah's view of things, a familiar face, and a bit more of Lyndon being a rude, selfish oaf, because it's secretly my very favorite. And also Jack not-so-subtly threatens to kill a man over ferrets.

“ _Though the road's been rocky, it sure feels good to me.”  
― Bob Marley _

 

The Lut Gholein sun that peeked in on them between haphazardly strung canopies of fabric, was near baking. Leah fanned herself with her shopping list, glad to have changed out of her warm, red sweater into something light, loose, and more suited to the desert clime. She didn't expect that Caldeum would be much different. Likely it would be even hotter from the winds that blew off the sun-ravaged dunes of Kehjistan.

Jack the Demon Hunter trailed just steps behind her, having insisted upon accompanying her through the markets as she made last minute purchases. She appreciated his chivalry, but she was more than capable of taking care of herself. Even still, she did not begrudge his company, quiet as he was.

He was heads taller than most of the locals in the buzzing market, and was impossible to miss. A stain of black among the rainbow of silks, linens, and stream of people. His dark hood was pushed back from his head, and a light sheen of sweet lingered beneath his shadowed eyes, the only indication that he even felt the oppressive heat. His raven-black hair hung freely about his face in messy tresses, and it was long enough to almost reach the line of his shoulders. People parted before them like water flowing around a stone, the hunter's very presence unnerving them. Despite the stares they received, Leah was just happy to be surrounded by so much _life_. She had missed the bustle of crowded places, and the rhythm of traveling helped to ease the bad memories of New Tristram that lingered in her mind, and the pain of her uncle's death that had made its home in her heart. To travel without uncle Deckard... it felt _wrong_ somehow, but she hadn't _exactly_ left him behind had she?

She idly fingered the pendant at her breast, and drew a breath of strength from the ashes sealed inside.

Soothed by the sounds of the city, like the presence of a long-missed friend, Leah absorbed the old familiar sights and sounds of Lut Gholein's merchants market: a group of women picked through a tray of carved, obsidian beads, faces hidden by silk. Their eyes looked out from small windows in the fabric, large, green, and rimmed with coal. Their laughter as they passed was musical. A wealthy looking man inspected a rack of ornate carpets while the merchant happily chattered away about the uniqueness of each. Soon, rows and rows of piled spices stretched out before them and Leah bought nutmeg, cayenne, and curry. It made food taste better, even if the food was not of good quality. She had never thought particularly well of her own cooking, but she knew that it was adequate enough.

“Do you need anything? I'm almost done.” She asked the Demon Hunter, who fixed his placid, blue gaze upon her. His eyes were piercing, and betrayed little to nothing of the thoughts that moved beneath.

“No.”

“Caldeum could be under siege when we arrive, who knows when we might get another chance.” She pressed.

“What I require, Haedrig can provide.”

Sometimes he was friendly with her, and sometimes he was merely curt, and that was that. She had grown used to his moods, and did not let it bother her.

“I have never been to Lut Gholein before. It is an... interesting city.” He offered after a few minutes, almost as an apology for his rudeness.

Leah smiled at him, and happily began telling him some of the city's history, how it was the main trading port in Aranoch, and was the first stop on a long route that began in Xiansai, passed through Lut Gholein, Philios, and Kingsport, before finally curving into the Gulf of Westmarch to Bramwell, then Westmarch itself. She pointed out the variety of unique goods and the veritable melting pot of different kinds of people, all living together, a larger variety of customs and cultures than even Caldeum could claim. The Demon Hunter listened, only interrupting her once to ask what a rambutan was. He was very quiet, and generally ill tempered. But he'd always been kind to her in his own way, and she liked him.

They had some time still before their ship departed for Gea Kul, Jack had given everyone three hours to do as they pleased until it was time to board, and Leah had nearly finished buying the items she needed. New ink and quill tips for her journals, various foods and spices, some spare herbs, medicines and linens that she hoped would not give away how close she was to her monthly moon cycle (she managed the purchase with a straight face and Jack seemed none the wiser), a spare tunic, and a new pack to carry it all. Kormac and Haedrig had stayed behind at the dock, volunteering to watch their things. Tyrael had expressed an interest in traveling through the streets, but opted to stay behind and rest a little. He was likely still recovering from his ordeal beneath Leoric's manor, Leah reasoned. _Lyndon_ however, had disappeared almost as soon as the offer of 'free time' had left the Demon Hunter's mouth.

Despite the idea of carrying her uncle's ashes in the pendant having come from _him_ , she secretly hoped he wouldn't come back.

There was just rice left now, it was inexpensive and would keep them all fed for a time if Caldeum had nothing to provide. She had also found some of the more heartier vegetables like acorn squash that would survive the boat ride across the narrow, Twin Seas.

Rice, and a visit to an old friend. She had questions that needed answering.

Leah purchased the hefty bag of rice from a smiling, mustached man, his skin burnt a dark brown by the sun. Jack offered to carry it for her. Weighed down by other purchases, she felt it would be too prideful to refuse his help, so she relented. He gave no indication of the smugness that some men often displayed when assisting her with tasks that she could not complete on her own, and for that she was grateful.

The alleys they walked narrowed as she followed a path from memory. The crowds thinned and scattered as shop fronts and carts became shadowed doorways and slatted windows. Jack followed. Her silent shadow. A man sang a low, haunting prayer in a language she did not understand as he walked past, his arms folded carefully among his yellow and tan robes.

At last she reached a simple red wooden door set deep into the baked clay walls. The symbol of the Vizjerei clan, a dragon bent low over a crescent moon, was painted upon the door. A mar was struck through the image, as though carved out with a dagger.

She knocked twice, then three times quickly.

“ _Go away!_ ” An elderly voice hissed from somewhere beyond the door, and Leah smiled, expecting as much.

“Drognan, it's _Leah_!” She called back.

There was a pause while Jack stood stiffly beside her, shifting the rice over his shoulder.

“ _Leah_...?” The voice repeated from beyond the door.

An elderly dark skinned man with a silver beard and a long, heavy wooden staff in hand, hastily opened the door and when he saw her, his wrinkled face split into a wide grin.

“Ah, dearest Leah, so it _is_ you!” And embraced her warmly. “I thought you were Lord Jerhyn coming 'round again, begging for another Mancala game to skirt his paperwork!”

“Drognan, it's nice to see you again.” She said. It had been many years since she had last visited, an old friend of her uncle's. It was so strange to be here without uncle Deckard, but she had questions she felt only Drognan could answer in his absence.

“Indeed it is, you've grown so _much_! And who is this? Is he your _young man_?” Drognan asked with a sly smile.

“He's a _friend_.” She corrected him quickly, flushing pink, and pointedly avoiding the hunter's eye. “His name is Jack, he's a-”

“Demon Hunter. Yes. Can never have too many Demon Hunters around I always say. Especially these days, as a dark eclipse works to shadow our world once more. It's a pleasure to meet you Jack. Come _in_ , friends, come in.” Drognan clattered inside, leaning heavily on his staff, beckoning them to follow.

Jack inclined his head politely at the greeting, and murmured a 'thank you,' then followed Leah inside the dimly lit home, stooping low to avoid hitting his head on the door frame. They were met with the lightly sweet scent of vanilla incense, burning in a red glass lantern, hung from the center of the low ceiling. There was a plush chair in front of an empty fireplace, and the many candles illuminated a table scattered with parchments, books, and various esoteric items of magical origin.

“Ahh, tell me. How is your dear uncle Cain? Is he not with you?” Drognan asked her lightly, as she knew he would.

Her hand went to the pendant at her chest, “He... he passed away.” She said quietly.

The good humor left Drognan's face and he regarded her steadily, both of his gnarled hands perched on the top of his worn staff. “Passed away...” He repeated, but there was something in his tone that suggested he did not accept her answer.

“He was murdered.” Jack supplied evenly where Leah was unable. “By a witch named Maghda. The leader of a cult known as the-”

“Triune. Yes. I know of her. I quite liked your uncle, he was a wise man, last of the Horadrim. I am sorry Leah.” The old man said gently. “This is grave news indeed.”

She nodded, not trusting her voice in that moment.

“We have been hunting Maghda from New Tristram.” Jack began, setting the rice at his feet.

“And you seek her in Caldeum, a city under siege by one of the Three. Belial.” Drognan answered, putting about his small kitchen space and pouring hot water into a small, porcelain teacup. How he could still drink hot tea in this weather was beyond her.

Jack tilted his head slightly, eyes flashing, suddenly distrustful. “How do you-”

“I'm a former Mage of the Vizjerei clan, it's my business and my _interest_ to know. May I get you something? Tea?” He asked lightly, indicating the cups before him.

“I'm sorry, we cannot stay long, we've charted a boat to Gea Kul.” Leah explained apologetically.

“But you have questions, questions that perhaps only an old Mage can answer.” Drognan drawled, a knowing smile gracing his face.

She grinned. “Yes.”

“Ask then, dear girl, ask, and I shall do all I can to help you.”

 

=+=+=+=+=+=

 

As it happened, Drognan's knowledge of The Prophecy was far less than her uncle's, and he could offer her little but general advice and speculation. He knew of it, but had never seen it in its complete form as Deckard Cain had.

“Cain was the authority on such things, my studies lean toward _darker_ pursuits, I am sorry. Perhaps the answer lies waiting in his books.” He had apologized. “You've always been a clever one, Leah. I've no doubt the answers you seek will come to you.” It was worth a try at least. Her uncle was not here, and Drognan knew much about the way of the great demon lords.

Even still, she could not hide her disappointment.

He was unable to assist them with Kormac's tomes either, and had actually _laughed_ when she had brought up the problem of the Templar Order.

“Hah! A bastardized form of a bastard religion! Your poor _Templar_ should cast off his tabard and leave it behind, he will be much the better for it! If only Horazon could see us now. Wherever he's gone.”

Poor Kormac. She would continue to try to help him find the answers he sought as best she could.

One question remained. The one she had been sitting on for some time.

“Drognan, when we fought Maghda in the drowned temple she... mentioned that my mother Adria was still alive. Have you...have you heard of her? Do you know if she still lives?” She asked hesitantly, unable to keep hope from entering her voice.

Dorgnan's face darkened considerably. “I know of her. As far as I know she is dead. Leave all thoughts of her behind you Leah. It does not pay to place stock in the words of witches.”

And that was that.

After, they caught up a little on each other's lives, but there was not much else to say, and the hour was growing late. With a heavy heart she bid him goodbye. As they made to leave, the ex-Vizjerei stopped them.

“Wait, friend. Twenty years ago I assisted a group of adventurers in locating the tomb of Tal Rasha in order to stop Diablo from freeing his brother Baal. Even though certain... _events_... transpired regardless, I would dishonor Cain's memory if I did not at least try to assist you now.”

Jack stared at him passively, waiting for him to speak.

“Beware the child emperor. There will be more than Lacuni and claw vipers to contend with. Belial's strikes are always aimed at the heart of any city he intends to conquer, if it is not his already.” He warned gravely.

“Thank you.” Jack answered him, and stooped his head through the door.

“Maghda deserves whatever dark fate comes to her. Goodbye Leah. Jack. And may the fates smile on you.”

 

=+=+=+=+=+=

 

Leah was disappointed, yes. But it felt good to see a familiar face. It was good to be somewhere that had not much changed from the last time she visited. Their visit to Caldeum was looking darker than ever, but she felt some comfort knowing that a former angel, Tyrael would be aiding them, and Jack had more than proved his proficiency with his particular skills in freeing Tyrael from the Black King's dungeons.

She couldn't help but feel as though they had a _real_ chance.

Now they had just enough time to grab something to eat and head back to the boat and-

-there was a man at the center of the small crowd with a glass box and a cage, and he had captured the Demon Hunter's attention _completely_. The finely dressed merchant was taking bets on who would win in a fight, the cobra or the two mongoose he had in the little cage. _A nasty sport for nasty people,_ she thought. Everyone knew that mongoose could usually kill a cobra with little difficulty, she wondered what he hoped to accomplish by letting _two_ of them fight the snake, surely he would just lose his money and his cobra to the whims of the eager locals?

“Place your bets please! Place your _bets_! The mongooses or the cobra! Who will win? I _wonder_!” The man exclaimed happily, showing off the deadly serpent sleeping behind the glass and the two little furred things, “mongooses” she supposed, stuffed into a much-too-small metal cage.

The merchant looked at Jack, towering over the rest of the people. “Your bet sir?”

“Those are ferrets.” Jack responded evenly, and rather _angrily_ she might add.

“An' 'ow would you know? You some kind o' mongoose _expert_?” The merchant laughed. Some people in the crowd laughed, but Jack was _not_ laughing.

...Not that he did much of that anyway.

“I know the difference, and I'm sure your “customers” don't appreciate being _lied_ to.” It was the most he had said all day. The people around him were starting to get nervous about the situation. Leah just hung back a little and observed curiously, wondering what Jack even thought he was _doing_. She didn't know the difference between a ferret and a mongoose, but he certainly seemed to think it was a very important distinction.

“I'm not _lying_! Two mongooses and a cobra, a fair bet who'll win!” The merchant snapped hotly, getting agitated now.

“Those are _ferrets_. They are not equipped to kill a cobra and will _die_ , allowing _you_ to reap the winnings.” Jack hissed. Some of the people that were still lingering didn't like the idea that they could have been lied to and started to look a little angry as well.

“They're only _animals_ , does it matter? Piss off.” The merchant tossed back angrily, merely annoyed with the whole thing.

Jack bristled and his jaw shifted subtly as though he were clenching his teeth. “ _It matters_. Sell them to me.”

“They ain't fo' sale.” The merchant snapped angrily as people around him started to demand their money back.

Jack drew himself up to his full height, teeth bared just a little, and his eyes glinting strangely in the shadow beneath the canopy. It was honestly a little _frightening_ , and Leah worried that he might be moments away from loosing his incredible temper upon the wretched merchant.

She just wasn't quite sure if she cared or not if he _did_.

“You may either sell them to me, or I will _take_ them from you. It's _your_ choice.” As Jack threatened, his fingers brushed over the curved blade he kept at his hip.

The man paled, perhaps finally realizing that Jack was armed to the teeth and would back up his threat with violence. He hastily accepted the small purse of gold that was shoved into his hands. The hunter snatched the cage of ferrets away from the man and broke the door open, pulling the ferrets out. They did not bite him or run, they only hurriedly escaped into Jack's traveling bag to get away from the merchant. That done, Jack threw the broken cage at the man's feet, gave him a last, filthy look, then left him to the throng of people who were demanding refunds.

Leah ran a bit to catch up with him. “What an _awful_ man.” She said when she reached his side.

“I should have taken them and given him _nothing_. Reckless killing in men begins when they torture beasts for their own amusement with the reasoning that they are _only animals_.” He spat, but he was not angry at her.

 

=+=+=+=+=+=

 

They sat together on the gently rocking ship, eating some street food they had picked up for lunch, and watching Haedrig bark orders at the hired men responsible for moving his caravan and forge aboard. Kormac and Tyrael stood at the open bow, gazing into the vaguely turbulent waters. It looked as though their journey would start off with a bit of rough seas. She hoped it would not storm, that would be _worse._ But the skies were clear and blue, the sun still hot, perhaps it was only the ripples of a storm long passed.

Kormac was staring at the water with a distinct frown on his face, looking a little unwell.

Jack pulled the two ferrets out of his bag, examining them. They chirped excitedly, and nipped playfully at his fingers, apparently fond of their savior already. He fed them some of the meat he had, which they eagerly gobbled (Jack didn't seem to eat much anyway) then happily slept, curled in his arms. Leah observed the softness in his eyes when he looked at them, dragging his un-gloved index finger over their small whiskered heads. Thinking of the raven that often trailed behind him (currently perched on the ship's mast), the spider Lyndon had complained about, and the way Jack would sometimes point out birds to her and answer her questions about songs she didn't recognize.

He seemed to be quite fond of animals.

“Can I touch them?” She asked, swallowing another mouthful of lunch.

Looked at her a little warily. “Yes.”

He sat stiffly, tense as a bowstring while she pet the ferrets in his lap, and relaxed again when she pulled away.

She smiled. “I've never much cared for _rats_ or _weasels_ -”

“Ferrets.” He corrected.

“Yes, _ferrets_. But they're rather cute aren't they?”

“They are twins, brother and sister.”

She frowned, skeptical. “How do you know that?”

He didn't answer her, but there was that odd quirk of his lips again that he did instead of smiling.

Leah sat quietly for a time, finishing her food and watching the people, then had a thought. “Why did you hire Lyndon if you hate thieves and liars so much?”

Jack paused and seemed to think on her question. “I could not ignore his talents. He has proven to be quite useful, and I believe that there is more to him than what lies on the surface. I admit I was... _curious_.” He said.

“Huh. Seems an awful lot of trouble just to satisfy a curiosity.” She mused.

“Indeed he has his... _faults_ , but at the very least he does not torment beasts for his own amusement.”

“No. He has other ways of _amusing_ himself.” Leah wrinkled her nose in distaste.

Jack _did_ smile at that.

The boat was ready and all their supplies and personal effects had been settled safely aboard. The only person who was still missing was-

There was some commotion from the tall, wooden building to the left of the docks as Lyndon practically fell out of the front door, a scandalously dressed woman in his arms, attached to him at the mouth.

Speak of the devil. So it was the harbor's _brothel_ he'd gone to? Creep.

Lyndon and the nameless woman tangled in the street a moment, then the thief had her up against the wall, his hand in her cleavage, and let loose a lurid sounding moan, and they were just _grinding_ -

-She looked away, embarrassed, and glanced sideways at the Demon Hunter who managed to look simultaneously bored and disgusted by Lyndon's behavior.

“I shall count the days I am away from your, ahm, _warm embrace_!” Lyndon called, closer now, on the boat's ramp. She started crying rather insistently as he tried to pry her desperately grasping fingers off of himself with moderate force.

_So much for leaving him behind._

“Write to me!” she wailed, then covered his mouth with hers. They kissed rather disgustingly for several seconds, and it _was_ disgusting, but she couldn't look away. It was like watching a ship burning and sinking into the sea.

“ _Definitely_!” He gasped, then grinned devilishly as she finally pulled away to let him breathe, then stepping away from him. Lyndon had a box labeled 'Darjeeling' under his arm that she hadn't noticed before. Before he fully boarded the ship, the woman stole one last kiss, dragging her fingers through the thief's hair and messing it thoroughly.

He scowled and smoothed his hand through it a few times in an attempt to fix the damage, and waved weakly at her as she howled from the docks while the ship inched away from the harbor at a snail's pace.

“ _GOODBYE MY LOVE!_ ” She screeched, waving a handkerchief.

“Gods, can't this bloody boat leave any _faster_?!” He hissed to himself, pointedly ignoring her. Then he turned to Leah and the Demon Hunter, as though just noticing that they were there.

He pointed at the ferrets in the Demon Hunter's lap.“What are those? _Tube rats_? Weasels?” He straightened his coat and preened himself carefully like a bird, not really paying attention even as he asked. She didn't much like him. What else was hidden beneath his creepy exterior? Nothing. He was a _creep_.

“Ferrets.” Jack answered dryly.

Lyndon scrunched up his face distastefully. “Whatever. Just keep them _away_ from me.” He drawled, then wandered away. He smiled at her as he passed, box of Darjeeling tea secure under his arm. No one would know if he had stolen it or paid for it, but knowing Lyndon even _slightly_ , she could only conclude that he had stolen it. His smile was slow, and heated, suggesting more than a simple, polite greeting.

_...Creep._

She noticed Kormac hugging the edge of the boat, looking queasy.

"Are you alright Kormac? You look a little... _unwell_." Leah inquired, getting up from the Demon Hunter's side and going to him.

"I feel _horrible_ , I'm not used to boats." Kormac admitted miserably and his fingers tightened on the edge when the boat tipped and bobbed on the waves.

"We haven't even left the sodding _harbor_ yet Kormac. Never ride any boats in the Gulf of Westmarch?" Lyndon asked rather cheerfully, apparently enjoying the Templar's misery. "You can't grow up in Kingsport and not take a boat ride at least half a dozen times." Lyndon gloated proudly, and he did seem to balance on the ship remarkably well.

"Damn your wretched Kingsport to _Hell._ It is nothing compared to the grand capitol of Khanduras, the _h_ _omeofmyorder-_ " Kormac ground out before he was retching suddenly over the side.

Leah sympathetically rubbed his back.

"Eugh, better out than in, eh Templar?" Lyndon said grinning. " _Kingsport_ is far grander than Westmarch could ever hope to be. The mere mention of her name produces a fluttering in the heart of _any_ true adventurer.” He said airily.

"If I was not... so ill, I would _strike_ you." Kormac muttered darkly while Lyndon's eyes twinkled with mirth and he  laughed merrily.

"Probably for the best. Wouldn't want to lose your _balance_ eh?"

"Is five minutes peace too tall an order for either of you to fulfill?" Jack snapped from his spot in the shade. "Leave our poor Templar _alone,_ Lyndon."

Tyrael and Haedrig were observing from the bow of the ship, equally amused expressions on their faces.

“I thought Kingsport was a bit of a _dump_.” Leah said haughtily, annoyed by the thief as well.

Lyndon gasped and clutched his heart, then pretended to swoon so dramatically that she couldn't help but laugh. “Leah, your words  _ wound  _ me.” He breathed, “They cut me to my very  _ core _ !” Then he straightened, grinning broadly.

Lyndon was a creep for certain, but at least he wasn't  _ boring _ . She couldn't help but feel optimistic about the path life had set her upon.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Drognan, he was one of my favorite characters from D2.


End file.
